


Feel Like I Feel

by Caidyn, Starbuckle



Series: The Epic Love Story of Sherlock and John [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Child Abuse, Roleplay, Teenlock, Texting, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 84,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidyn/pseuds/Caidyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbuckle/pseuds/Starbuckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months before the end of school genius Sherlock Holmes and future soldier John Watson meet in the most unexpected of ways. In the end, one text is all it takes for them to find each other and realize that there is more to teenage life than partying and homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On a whim, me and my lovely friend decided to publish our role-play just for the hell of it.
> 
> In this first part, Sherlock is sixteen years old, until his birthday, and John is eighteen.

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_Is this John Watson's phone? -SH  
If so, don't try to help me again. -SH_

I... sorry? I'm assuming by your fancy 'SH' that this is Sherlock Holmes? -JW  
Are you talking about me getting my rugby team away from you at lunch today? -JW

_Yes. This is Sherlock Holmes. And with that leave me alone. Don't try to help me. -SH_

I'm the Captain, mate. I can't have them getting in trouble for nearly shoving your lunch into your face. -JW  
You don't deserve that. -JW

_It's not that big of a deal. -SH_

It isn't? They were bullying you. I think that's actually a bit of a big deal. -JW

_I'm going to graduate this year along with you and your "mates". Not like I'll be seeing them again. It won't affect me in the long term of my life. -SH_

Right. Y'know what, I was just trying to help. I've seen you being picked on before and I hate it. You don't deserve it. Sorry I was just trying to be helpful. -JW

_It's fine. Just don't do it again. -SH_

I'm going to keep doing it. -JW

_Fine. -SH  
I guess I'll be seeing you around more often then. -SH_

Guess you will. Hell, I'll even sit with you at lunch tomorrow. I don't think anybody should really sit alone. -JW

_I like sitting alone. -SH_

Tough. I'm sitting with you tomorrow. -JW

_Your friends will miss you. -SH_

Right... could care less. I see enough of them in class and all that, don't I? -JW

_Fine. I'll see you around then. -SH_

You better be at lunch tomorrow. -JW

_I will. -SH_

Sitting at a table. In the lunchroom. -JW

_I will. It's the one meal I get free each day. I take advantage of it when I’m hungry. -SH_

...For free? -JW

_I have a deal with the school. They understand my situation, so I get free lunches. -SH_

Does that mean I'm making you dinner then, too? My Mum and sister will both be gone and I can make a mean salad. -JW

_No. You are not making me dinner. -SH_

Tough luck, mate. We've not got practice tomorrow. I think I'm making you dinner. -JW

_No, you're not. I'm going back to my home tonight, not going to yours and you're not coming to mine. -SH_

I'll kidnap you. Don't make me do that, Sherlock Holmes. -JW

_If you kidnap me, I'm calling the police. -SH_

Don't worry, I'll make sure to grab your mobile before I shove you in the back of my car. -JW

_Bugger off. -SH_

Getting a tad upset over there? -JW

_I don't want or need your help. So leave me alone. -SH_

Not going to happen. -JW

_Do you not see how annoying you are? When someone doesn't want your help you shouldn't give it. I have my life under control and I don't need anyone to try to help me, whether it's with peers or food or anything. I take care of myself. -SH_

Well I want to do something nice for somebody before the Army ships me off to murder people and I've picked you. -JW 

_I don't need it. -SH_

Don't care, I do. -JW 

_I'll see you tomorrow at lunch then. -SH_

Lunch it is, mate. See you then. -JW 


	2. Chapter 2

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_Sherlock didn't feel the need to respond to that text. He finished homework for the night then went to sleep, waking up early to do laundry so he might have something to wear. Once all that was out of the way he made a pot of coffee for himself, filled up a large travel mug for himself, then left his flat. He lived alone now -- besides his nosey landlady and her terrible husband -- and had to do most of these things on his own, which he mainly forgot to do in the wake of other, more important, things in his life. About thirty minutes before school began he arrived at the place then walked to his usual corner to sit and do the rest of his maths homework he hadn't completed yet._

John sauntered down the hall as he waved at the people who called his name. Despite his clear fear of leaving home and running off to the Army, the dog tags hung around his neck and clicked against his chest with each step. It didn't take him long to get to the dining room of the school, walking past the rugby team with a smile and a wave before plopping himself beside Sherlock Holmes, nose stuck predictably in a textbook. "Good morning," he said with a soft, lopsided smile.

_His blue-grey eyes moved slowly from the pages of what most would deem a difficult math concept, to the person sitting beside him. None other than John Watson, the boy who just couldn't take a hint. His eyes flickered quickly over what was there for him to see from the dog tags that he'd seen many times before he had been told about the plans for the Army to the lopsided smile that made the girls he sat around in one of his classes go wild when they were talking about the captain of the rugby team. Whoop-dee-do. "Morning," he said simply before taking another sip from his coffee, the bitterness of the brew washing over him to perk his body and mind up._

Right. Not much talking, then. John figured as much with the open math textbook, of all things, in the other boy's lap. The worst subject ever invented, he figured. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, letting his legs stretch out in front of him with a small sigh. A few girls were looking in his direction, giggling and waving at him. Bloody annoying. He turned his attention back to Sherlock's mug. Coffee from the smell of it. "Well, I brought us breakfast," he finally declared as he dug into his book bag and tossed Sherlock a small bag of dried banana slices and almonds.

_The math wasn't very hard and he ended up finishing it quickly, only using the calculator for the equations he couldn't figure out in his head confidently. Sherlock was about to pull out some loose music sheets -- he'd stolen them from the band director when she hadn't been looking in a passing period -- when a bag of food came his way. He looked at it for a moment before his eyes went up to John again, meeting the young man's own eyes. "Thank you... I guess," he said, opening up the bag and picking around for a few moments to pull out an almond._

John smiled a bit and let his shoulders move in a lazy shrug. "Said I was gonna feed you, didn't I?" He shifted to dig into his bag again, pulling out a bag for himself and tossing a handful into his mouth. He chewed politely as he continued to look around the dining area, shifting a bit as he attempted to get comfortable on the hard surface beneath him. How did Sherlock just sit here every day and not talk to anybody? It was bloody boring. "'S a nice thing to do, y'know? I hate being alone in my flat so I figure you might not like it much at school."

_"I'm fine being alone. Alone is what I have." The most he had was a skull he had named Yorick and his violin. Sherlock adored both those things because they allowed him to vent what was on his mind no matter what it was about. Again, just as he was about to get those music sheets out, he received a text that vibrated in the inner pocket of his typical suit-jacket. When he pulled it out he read over the message, discovering that the schedule had been changed and instead of working a few hours after school he wasn't working at all that night but working almost all day on Saturday. He sent a quick message back to his employer. "I'm still not coming to your flat with you," he commented offhandedly._

"You are, though," John muttered around a mouthful of food, glancing at the boy next to him with a cocky smile. "Literally, you are. I know you live alone. I practically do myself and I don't fancy going out tonight to drink with my team," he said with a simple shrug. Why didn't this kid want any sort of interaction with anybody else? It was annoying, frankly, and all John wanted to do was help him out a little. He just wanted to feel like he'd helped somebody before he left and Sherlock Holmes seemed to be the only kid that... would what? Take his help? God, it sounded pathetic now that he replayed everything in his head. 

_"Everyone knows I live alone. And everyone knows the reason why. It's no big secret," he snapped. Maybe if he was just rude he’d be able to get this bloke away from him. Sherlock took another drink from his mug, musing over that thought, and finally got the music sheets out to began working on the notes, smoothing out the flow and sound in his head. It would work better if he could actually get out his violin to do that. "If you want to make me a meal then just follow me back to my flat like some puppy. I'm not going to go to yours, so if you're going to be this stubborn over making me dinner then you're going to have to come to mine." He glanced over at John, seeing that cocky smile that those same girls talked about as well._

"Oi!" John's face morphed quickly into one of clear amusement. "'M not some bloody puppy. Adorable as one, yes," he winked and chuckled a bit. "Not actually one, though. I'll follow you home, though. I can do that." He finished the statement with a sure nod. Why not? It would give him the chance to stay away from Harry or his Mum if they decided to come home. Hell, maybe he'd get some homework done if he actually went to Sherlock's flat. That's probably all the boy did. "Anything you fancy? I can cook a decent meal. Granted, you've got to have all the stuff to do it.” 

_Always so cocky. Sherlock sighed softly at that; it was a trait to be proud of. He drummed his long fingers over the paper as he listened to John speak. "No, I don't have a particular yearning for any type of food as long as it tastes fine and isn’t beef. You trying to fatten me up now, John?" Yes, he knew he was skinny for his age; he was underweight but it fit his lanky frame nicely and was well proportioned. "I'll have a bit of everything, but nothing too large of a serving or I will refuse to eat it all." He drew a quick note on his page, making a mark for himself to check if that sounded fine outside of his head. There were many times when the chords didn’t match up when they needed to so a resolution would be created._

Bit of everything? Wow, this bloke was so specific, wasn't he? John chuckled a bit and shifted on the floor to lock his gaze on Sherlock. "Not looking to put you in my oven anytime soon, no. Your body image is the least of my worries," he declared as he shoved his food back into his book bag and zipped it shut. "I can make very good chicken so I think I'll do that. 'S pretty healthy and I'll even make you a small serving size and all that." After several long moments he glanced at the notes in the boy's hand and tilted his head. "You making some new sort of music, then?" 

_"Chicken sounds fine," Sherlock said softly, obviously beginning to become absorbed in composing this new piece. He didn't even look up when John spoke to him about the music that he was creating. "I like composing things for my violin. This one is going to be in three or four parts." The melody, the harmony, and the two bass parts that tied it all in together. He felt that was what it needed. Music was the way he vented feelings and emotions, letting himself know that he wasn't a robot or a freak that was unemotional no matter what everyone else thought of him. But, in the course of this one, he may have to borrow extra instruments to get the needed range._

The music notes scribbled across the page could have been bloody Chinese to John. It was interesting, though. Certainly something he couldn't really do. "Wish I could do that," he commented with a smile. "All I'm really good at is rugby, y'know? Would be neat to do that kinda stuff." His right shoulder lifted in a heavy shrug before sitting back and supporting himself on his arms that were outstretched behind him. His blue rugby shirt stretched tightly over his torso and tightened with each breath he took. "Like green beans, then? We could have that as a bit of a side." 

_He was shit at sports himself. If someone were to give him a ball he would be at a loss on what to do with it. He didn't even understand how rugby really worked; he'd decided he'd take the time to learn sports on winter break after their tests were finished with. He glanced to John, flickering his eyes over the teen's body, then back up to his face. It wasn't hard to see that John was attractive. He was very attractive at that; nice personality, obviously decently smart, body was fit, good smile, nice hair. All in all he was what most people were looking for. But not Sherlock. He wasn't going to be the stereotypical gay male who went after any blonde, especially one far out of his league. No, no, no. "Green beans sound fine as well."_

There was a heavy pause between them as John, clearly lost in thought, chewed absently at his bottom lip. "Right then. D'you have all that at your flat or do I need to make a stop at the market on our trip home?" The smile on his lips was lazy and relaxed, his feet wiggling slightly as he tilted his head. It was a bit hard to notice the fact that Sherlock's eyes had lingered just a bit on his body. That was the point of countless hours in the gym and on the pitch though, wasn't it? Bit of a side thought for him. It made him faster and stronger on the pitch, all the blokes on the team just enjoyed the attention they all got. He was content with himself and that was all that mattered. "I could get us each a pint as well if you fancy that." 

_"You'll need to get the food at the market. I don't keep food in my house very much." Sherlock mainly ordered take-out. He hated going to the stores because they frustrated him so he thought it better to just order food out. There were good Chinese, Mexican, and Italian places around so it wasn't like he was starving. He took a long drink from his coffee then shook his head. "I don't drink. So I'd rather not have a pint." He didn’t add that he did abhor most drinking in general. Again he began writing what notes came into his head. "Where do you want to meet since you're so adamant about coming home with me?"_

John snorted a bit. Didn't drink? Who in their right mind _didn't_ drink? That just seemed so bloody odd to him. "I'll just get you some milk or something then. Is it all right if I get a pint for myself? I don't want to bring it into your flat or anything if you're uncomfortable with it," he stated softly before stretching a bit and groaning as all of his muscles started to relax a bit more. He glanced around the massive dining room, studying some people before yawning. "I dunno, really. We could probably just meet up right here, yeah? Drive to the market and then off to your flat. Sound all right with you, mate?" 

_"Yeah, it's fine if you get a pint. I have water at my flat I can have." Sherlock started putting away the sheets of music, figuring that he wouldn't be getting anything more done of it at this time. He drew a knee to his chest so he was in a tucked position that felt comfortable on his back. "That sounds fine. And don't call me ‘mate’. We're not mates, we're barely even acquaintances." He quickly adjusted his clothes so they lay on him in a more comfortable way. "And I don't drink, I can see that you were wondering about it from the look on your face, because I had a bad experience with it through seeing a family member drinking then getting mean."_

What the...? John's eyes narrowed slightly, his nose scrunched a bit. How did Sherlock even know that? He looked around for a moment before sitting up fully and and chuckling nervously. "I... of course. Just a bit odd, y'know? Everybody drinks, illegal or not. At parties, after a tough day of classes. Guess it's just a tad different that you don't. I'm not judging, some people don't like the taste," a pause as he cleared his throat. A nervous blush started to tint the tops of his ears. "Or they've had a bad history with the stuff." He shifted a bit and finally grinned. More normal conversation, not as awkward. "I'm gonna call you mate all I want. We're having dinner together, that practically makes us mates, doesn't it? 

_"I'm not everybody." Sherlock was the one who had a human skull -- and perfectly kept head in the fridge -- in his flat and no one had that unless they were some kind of serial killer, which he was not. "The taste is fine I just don't like what it does to people. Either makes them more apt to sex, fights, or just makes them sad, mean, overly happy. Alcohol isn't something I'm interested in." His voice sounded like a teacher who was lecturing a student that had done a bad job. "No, that doesn't make us mates. We're not even close to something that makes us mates."_

More apt to sex. John could certainly attest to that. He dropped his head and sighed a bit. "Oi, fine then. We're not mates, we'll just be... whateva, yeah? 'M just trying to help you out." He managed a small chuckle to ease the tension between them. "Might as well get ready to head to class. Meet you here at the end of the day. Don't back out. It's just... it's something for us, all right? I just want to help. It's probably a bit selfish but I don't care." He stood up slowly, his dog tags clicking together several times as he slipped his book bag on his back. "See you in six hours then. Thanks for talking with me this morning." 

_Sherlock didn't reply to John as he gathered his things up and left. All his classes were dull, except for Advanced Chemistry, where the teacher actually liked him for his enthusiasm, but not his actions, and he went through the day. After the school bell he gathered his things together, his backpack heavy from the homework he had gotten, and he went to meet John Watson where they had said they would meet. He could just leave, run off to his flat where no one would look for him. Why he was doing this he didn't know. John would track him down since he’d given him his flat number the night before. Why had he done that? But he waited there, checking his phone for anything interesting as he did._

John managed to make it through his day and by the time classes were over he was walking with the rest of the rugby team. They were loud and shoving each other, shouting obscenities and laughing. "Oi, right then. Knock it off! Don't get in trouble this weekend, mates, and make sure to get a good run in." Groans were echoed through the dining hall, one hand reaching out to ruffle John's blonde hair. "Have a good weekend. Bright and early Monday in the weight room!" With that he turned, walking slowly toward Sherlock with a large smile. "Ready, then? I've got the money, managed to save some. We'll go get some food and all that and then go back to your flat. Where is it, exactly?" He looked up at the boy with an eager bounce on his feet. 

_It was always fascinating to watch people interact together. The seemed bonding, the smiles, the laughs, and the conversations. Sherlock liked watching to see if he could pick out connections and figure out who hated who without having to listen in to a person’s conversation. Didn’t matter to him that he typically got odd looks for staring when he did that. When John showed up a curt smile was on his face. "You already know where I live, so no need to tell you. There's a market around there that we can go to or you can drop me off at my flat and go yourself. I'll make sure to tell my landlady to let you just come upstairs so you aren’t asked too many unneeded questions."_

John blushed a bit and glanced around the both of them. It was Friday and everybody had already left the school. They were practically alone. "I'll just take you with me, bit easier. You can help me pick out what kind of chicken you want and all that." His arm lifted for a second, just above his waist and it dropped. Ruffling Sherlock's hair would probably cross several lines if you could even call the boy 'mate.' After a sigh he pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them in the air, catching them with a grin. "C'mon Sherlock, let's go shopping!" A short laugh escaped his lips as he moved forward toward the door that would lead them to the parking lot. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_Damn. Sherlock adjusted his bag again and the violin case in his hand. "I'd still like to stop by my flat to drop things off so I don't have to carry them upstairs along with a bag or two of groceries." He followed after John with a snort that could be classified as some kind of laugh. Hearing an almost grown man saying for them to go shopping was quite funny to him. He was soon walking side by side John because of his long strides. "What does your car look like?" Sherlock typically avoided the parking lots; he walked to and from school unless it was freezing and he got either his brother to send a car or just found himself a cab._

Oh, his car. How did explain the little clunker he'd saved up his entire life for? "It's... blue. Bit old, fix-me-up, if you will." John smiled up at him, pointing to the old car near the front of the parking lot. It was dented in places, the paint was gone in places, but it got him everywhere. "Bought it a few years ago and it hasn't broke down yet. Nice little Honda." He chuckled and unlocked the car, his door squeaking a bit as he opened it and tossed his bag into the back. "Just put your stuff back there. And I'll carry the groceries mate," bad habit, Sherlock would live, "Not a problem at all, yeah?" He finally fell into his seat, starting the car with practiced ease.

_The car looked like a piece of work but he could see that John cared deeply for it so he decided not to make any comments on the appearance. So long as it didn't break down and leave them stranded somewhere he would be fine with the state it was in. He carefully placed his things in the back -- he didn't want to break them after all -- and then climbed into the passenger's side. This time he didn't comment on John calling him "mate". It was useless to as he was finding. "You said we're having chicken and green beans. What more?"_

John backed the car out of the parking spot and shifted into drive. The car lurched forward a bit before he started moving, pulling on to the main road. Baker Street. Not too far away and rather easy to get to. "Nothing more, really, just what kind of chicken or green beans you want. There're loads of different types, y'know." He turned on to Baker Street, easily finding the market and pulling into an open parking spot. "And anything else you'd like, I'll buy. Food, any of that," he shrugged a bit before smiling and getting out of the car. He might as well help Sherlock as much as possible. If he had to buy simple things like dinner then how much food did the bloke actually have at his flat?

_Sherlock was going to take a bit of advantage of the offer. Nothing too serious but he did need a few things that they could easily buy at the store. He got out of the car as well. "I can care less on the type of chicken or green beans. I need some coffee and a pack of cigarettes, though." For him cigarettes counted as some kind of food. Currently in his fridge there was a pizza box, some Chinese food from last night, and leftovers from when he ate with Mrs. Hudson and her husband. "My landlady also needs some more tea. She would appreciate it if she got some."_

John glanced at the taller boy for a long moment. "I'll buy you coffee and tea, whatever else you want," he muttered as they walked through the doors. "Not buying you smokes, though. Nasty habit, that." Food was one thing, an addictive substance that would kill Sherlock if he kept at it would certainly not be on the list. He grabbed a small basket and made his way through the first aisle, grabbing a bag of veggie sticks with a smile of approval. "Anything else, then? Just the tea and coffee? Or d'you want some actual food to snack on?"

_"How hypocritical. Offering to buy me one thing that can kill me but refusing to buy another." Sherlock liked smoking. It reminded him of when he had those brief times of peace between he and his father. "I'll buy my own smokes then. And tea and coffee is all I need." But he figured that John would try to buy him some food anyways that he could snack on when he got hungry. "Earl Grey tea and just regular coffee is fine. I'm going to go up front and buy cigarettes before I forget again." He was already turning away from John and going in the direction of the front of the store._

John watched Sherlock for a long moment before turning back toward the food and rolling his eyes. It wasn't hypocritical. Not really. One drink wouldn't kill him or give him cancer. One smoke could do that. He shook his head with an aggravated sigh before finishing the shopping. He made it to the front of the store, gently bumping Sherlock's shoulder with his own as he started setting all the food down. "Got you some fresh things. Apples, bananas," he stated proudly as he started setting it all down. "And some veggie sticks for you. Real good, you'll love them." The rest of the groceries were set down and John paid with a debit card before grabbing the six bags and nodding toward the other boy. "Off we go then. Time to start cooking."

_Sherlock bought his usual brand and slid them in his back pocket, waiting up front for John. Six bloody bags. How the hell was he going to eat all that before they went bad or remember to throw them out when they did go bad? He sighed softly but accepted the fact that he had enough food there that would last him a bit without having to buy too much take-out. "You might have to borrow a few pots and pans from Mrs. Hudson. I didn't really go out and get too many cooking supplies when I first moved into the flat and I haven't found a reason to yet." He started walking from the store._

"Me?" John looked over at Sherlock with wide eyes, laughing a bit as he opened the back door to his car and put all the bags in the back seat. "Why don't I unpack everything for you while you go talk to your landlady for pots? I don't even know her!" He laughed again as he started the car. "Got you some stuff that won't go bad. Soup in a can, all that. You should be fine for a while, I would think." He pulled out of the parking lot with ease, managing to find a parking spot across the street from the big black door that had '221' written across it in large, gold letters. "So, you get pots and I'll put your new food away, yeah? Then I'll cook for you and we can have a bit of a chat. Sound like plan?"

_"She'd give them to you. She's a very trusting woman." That's why they got along so well; Mrs. Hudson saw the good in everyone while Sherlock mainly saw the ugly sides. Upon arriving at the flat he got out his things from the back and started towards the house. "Yes, that sounds fine. And if you see a cat in there be careful of it. I found it a few weeks ago and it doesn't trust anyone yet." The cat trusted him at least. A little black cat who he had named Poe. "I'll be upstairs in a second." He opened up the front door and was immediately greeted by a woman with a wide smile that was following him back to her portion of the flat after a wave towards John. She was like a mother to him._

John grabbed his book bag and slipped it on before grabbing the grocery bags. He nodded his head a bit to the older woman, a smile on his face as he made his way up the stairs. The cat nearly scared him to death as it scampered across his path with a hiss. He jumped a bit, taking a deep breath in order to calm himself. "Jesus," he muttered as he looked around the flat. Messy was quite the understatement. After he set his book bag down beside the couch he moved to put the groceries away. The kitchen was covered in science equipment and hardly looked sanitary. How was he even supposed to put things away? He set the bags down in the only open space he could find on the counter, grabbing the apples and moving toward the fridge. Without a second thought he opened it, jumping away with a loud shout and knocking his lower back into the table behind him. "That's... good Lord, that's a fuckin' head," he nearly shouted.

_Sherlock had been in the middle of grabbing things from where Mrs. Hudson kept them when he heard John's shout. Mrs. Hudson started glaring at him and quickly moving up the stairs with the teen following behind her._

_"Sherlock you said you weren't going to keep those things around here anymore," she scolded as she entered the flat, heading straight to the fridge._

_"It was a birthday present from my brother," he said in a voice that could be classified as a whine._

_"I'm going to clean up this flat when you're at school," she carried on, whirling around to glare at him._

_"Mrs. Hudson! I'm going to clean up some things later," he replied, moving to steer the elderly woman out after grabbing the tea from a bag and placing it in her hands. He shot a look at John. Mrs. Hudson was still talking to herself as she left._

John was stuck between pure horror at the fact that Sherlock's _brother_ gave him a head as a birthday present -- and dear Lord, Sherlock kept it in the bloody fridge-- and trying to will the sudden pain in his lower back to go away. Mrs. Hudson seemed nice enough, upset or not, and he suddenly had the feeling that he'd just gotten Sherlock in a bit of trouble. A deep red traveled across his cheeks as he glanced up at the younger boy, swallowing with a shaky laugh. "I... sorry," he whispered. "I just, y'know, wasn't expecting..." he shook his head and groaned as he completely straightened his back.

_"It's fine," Sherlock said tensely. "And just so you know there's a human skull on the mantle over the fireplace. Don't scream about that either or Mrs. Hudson will confiscate it again. Go and sit down while I put these things away." He'd have to throw away the head now. He had just been getting somewhere with it too. He sighed as he opened up the fridge and got out a trash bag so he could throw it and the plate it was sitting on away. Poe, his darling cat, came up as he was doing things, purring and weaving between his legs as if they were good friends. Sherlock was the only thing Poe liked._

Everything was far from 'fine' right now, it was especially clear by the way Sherlock was speaking, but John couldn't do much at the moment. He moved slowly out of the kitchen, sighing as he stretched himself out on the couch. It didn't take long for him to get comfortable while laying on his stomach, easily ignoring the pain in his back when he suddenly realized how bloody tired he had been. He burrowed his head into his arms, stretching a bit as his shirt exposed the tight muscles of his lower back, and sighed. What a wonderfully comfy couch. He was soon napping, snoring softly into the bicep of his left arm.

_While he was cleaning he knew he might as well throw out the eyeballs from the microwave and a couple of the messy experiments. Sherlock finished soon and tossed the things into the garbage that was outside of his bedroom window so he wouldn't have to walk all the way out to the street corner. When he went back into the living room to tell John that everything was ready he found him asleep on his couch. His eyes went over the sleeping boy, trying to figure out what to do, before opting to just let him sleep. Music, instrumental music, was put on in the background as Sherlock began working in his chair on some homework. John's snores weren't too loud so he saw no need to turn him around so they would stop._

It was a quick nap by his means, especially for a Friday, and John slowly opened his eyes nearly two hours later. Everything around him was bleary and he could faintly hear some sort of music playing in the living room of... Right. Sherlock's flat. He groaned and shifted, pulling one knee up as he rubbed at his eyes and forced himself to sit up. "Sorry," he muttered through a yawn, his arms high in the air as he worked the muscles of his body. "Didn't mean to fall 'sleep like that." He smiled foolishly, dropping his hands and clearly not noticing the fact that his blonde hair was sticking in every direction.

_Sherlock was finishing up an easy assignment when he heard John stirring and beginning to speak as he woke back up. His eyes went up to look at him and he couldn't help as a smile came across his face, an honest one that wasn't faked, and a couple of chuckles slipped from between his lips. "Look at your hair. Go through the kitchen, down the hallway, and the first door on the right. That's my bathroom and you should probably fix your hair up so you don't make me laugh all the way through dinner." He stood up while Poe, who had gotten on his lap, scampered off and went over to sit by the fireplace expecting for it to be turned on for him._

That smile was, quite possibly, one of the most amazing things John had ever seen. Real and on the face of Sherlock Holmes, of all people. He chuckled a bit and stood up, glancing down the hall with a small shrug. "Don't feel like laughing through dinner then?" After a short glance toward the cat he moved down the hall, going into the correct door and bursting into laughter as he caught his own reflection. All of his hair was up, looking like he'd haphazardly put product in it. He wet his hands down in the sink and flattened it all before going into the kitchen, grabbing himself a bottle of beer and opening it before entering the living room again. "I rather thought that was a dashing look," he muttered before taking a gulp from his bottle.

_He found himself laughing again when he heard John doing the same when he had finally seen what his hair looked like. Sherlock got up and lit the fire for the little cat. It mewed, almost sounding like a thank you, before curling up by the warm flames. He was just sitting back down when John came back in carrying a beer with his hair all back to normal. Sherlock ignored the alcohol completely and said, "If by dashing you mean making everyone laugh at you, then yes, you looked very dashing," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He got up again and pulled a book down from the shelf to read. "Everything's put away in the kitchen. You won't have to worry about finding another head in there."_

"Not really hungry," John mumbled as he collapsed into the chair opposite of Sherlock. "I can wait a bit and I know you hardly eat," he shrugged before taking another large gulp from his beer. The flat was far nicer than the own he lived in with his mother and sister. Bigger, too. He would love to live in a space this big, especially by himself. The cat he could definitely live without but, then again, Sherlock lived on his own. Maybe having a pet was a bit of a relief. Somebody to talk to who would always listen. "What d'you usually do on the weekends?" He finally muttered as he leaned to the side and set his bottle on the ground beside his chair.

_Sherlock's eyes flickered from the beer then up to John's face. He really wasn't a big fan of drinking and wasn't around people who did drink if he could help it. "I work on the weekends. With the time I have leftover I work on assignments from school, help Mrs. Hudson around the flat, or play on my violin." This weekend it was his birthday. He was turning seventeen on Sunday and was going to celebrate it with the Hudson's and maybe his brother, if the man showed up. "And what do you do? Spend time with friends or girls interested in you, I assume."_

John didn't catch the glances between himself and the alcohol and simply continued the conversation with a shrug. "Yeah, mostly. Go to parties, drink a bit," he paused and cleared his throat. "Shag a bit if I can find a nice girl." It was a bit more embarrassing to actually say it out loud, wasn't it? He blushed and shifted in the chair, pulling his legs up to cross in front of him. "That sounds bloody ridiculous now that I really think about it," he muttered with a small laugh. "It's just how we celebrate wins and... yeah, we win all the time." He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at the cat curiously.

_Shag, of course. Sherlock had never had sex, let alone kissed anyone besides family or people he considered family. He watched John when he seemed uncomfortable after saying what he did on the weekends. "I know that you win all the time. I might not be very social but it's hard not to hear what you and your ‘mates’ get up to in your free time." They were all things that Sherlock personally found distasteful._

Of course even Sherlock would know what the entire rugby team did. Their reputation was far from stellar off the pitch. "I... don't know. I'm taking it all in, I guess," John finally mumbled. His head was still low as he picked at his jeans for a long moment. "Not going to be able to shag attractive people when I'm in Afghanistan, am I?" His blue eyes, suddenly void of the playful glint he always had, lifted to study Sherlock. "Can't party or drink all the time. I want to do it all now before they ship me off to get killed, I guess."

_"Going to war doesn't always mean you're going to get killed. You'll see other people get killed then come back to lead a normal life. Then you can shag all you want and drink all the time." There was a tinge of his feelings on those things in his voice. Sherlock didn't like any of those things. Sex was supposed to be about love, not for fun or for a good time. He sighed and turned in his chair, his feet hanging over the arm. "And you never know. You could meet a very attractive woman or man in your regiment when in Afghanistan."_

John looked up at chuckled a bit, leaning over to pick up his beer and finish it off with one go. "I don't think I'll be able to watch people die and then come back here and be a civilian. Nearly impossible, I would think. I'll be practically homeless. My Mum... she's not letting me come back," he shrugged and hiccuped slightly before curling his toes and resting his head against the back of the chair. "So I'll go off to war, find some attractive bloke. We'll shag, yeah? And then he'll get shot, blown up... something. That's not something I'm keen on seeing."

_John was already getting intoxicated from one beer. Sherlock made a note in his head to take his car keys so he wouldn't try to drive back to his flat. "I'll make you a deal. If you end up getting on my good side, maybe even get me to think I'm one of your mates, then if you survive and come back here you'll have a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Deal?" He held out a hand to John, seeing if he would take it. "But you have to try to actually become my friend, not just a one time thing like this to show that you're a nice person before going out to kill people."_

That seemed like quite the deal, didn't it? Hell, John could see himself being friends with Sherlock, minus heads in the fridge, of course. He nodded and reached his hand out, taking it with a tight grasp and giving it a strong shake. "Deal," he said, his voice shaking a bit. "That's... yeah, deal," he muttered as he pulled his hand away and slowly curled his body around his knees. His eyes were locked intently on the fire, starting to look a bit glazed over. He hadn't eaten much all day and one drink was already starting to do him in. "I think you'd make a good friend."

_There was obviously going to be no home cooked meal tonight for him. Sherlock stood up after the handshake, Poe stirring to begin following him. He grabbed his phone and called a take-out place. He went back into the living room, the black cat still weaving between his legs and said, "John what do you want for Chinese food? There's no way you're cooking or driving yourself home tonight." He went to the man and pulled the car keys from his back pocket. "Thank you, I guess. You could be a nice friend too. Go get an apple from the fridge before you get too intoxicated to do anything useful."_

John watched Sherlock for a long moment, hiccuping again before eyeing his keys. No going home? What would happen if Harry came back drunk? Who would make sure she made it to the bathroom? He mumbled as he stood up, looking up at Sherlock with flushed cheeks. "Chow mien," he whispered as he moved into the kitchen and grabbed an apple as well as a second bottle of beer. He took a sloppy bite from the fruit and opted for leaning against the counter over making his way back to the living room. Too much work, really. "Does that mean we're friends then? Me and you?"

_Sherlock's teeth gritted as he went back to the kitchen to see John with another beer. Just as he would have done for his father he took the beer, along with the other things from the fridge. With his back turned he walked from the kitchen. He had finished ordering the food for them. It would be fifteen minutes. "No. We're not friends, John. I'm not going to be friends with someone who gets sloppy drunk every weekend for the hell of it or shags anyone because he can." There was a bite in his voice. "Even I know how to act and I have awful social skills." The beer was now in the trashcan. For an extra measure he had opened up the bottles so they would drain to the bottom of the bag._

John just watched, taking another bite of the apple before narrowing his eyes. So now Sherlock was just going to judge him for what he did in his free time? It wasn't every weekend, really. Aside from that, he wasn't the only who kept bloody human heads in the fridge! "I don't get sloppy drunk. One drink, maybe two. I'm coherent enough to know what I'm doing," he nearly spat as he swallowed his bite and took another one. "I just haven't eaten today, yeah? Sod off." He pushed himself off the counter and left the kitchen in a huff, flopping onto the couch dramatically as his arm dangled off the side and the apple slid across the floor.

_This was why Sherlock didn't like drunk or tipsy or whatever the hell this was people. He had no tolerance for them. He followed him back to the living room and sat beside Poe on the ground by the warm fireplace. The cat stretched and crawled over to him, hissing randomly as he curled up to go back to sleep in the teen's lap. "Don't tell me to sod off in my own bloody flat. I won't take that treatment here." He scratched the top of the cat's head just behind its left ear exactly how it liked it. The creature mewed softly, stretching it's body out in a way that made Sherlock smile in an amused fashion._

Why the Hell was the boy still talking? Was it not clear enough that John was upset? He narrowed his eyes as he studied Sherlock on the other side of the living room, lifting his hand to take an angry bite from his apple. "'S not any sort'a treatment," he mumbled around the food in his mouth, swallowing the best he could and rolling his eyes. "'S me tellin' you that 'M not drunk. You jus' threw out _my_ beer that I bought. Bit of a reason ta be pissed, y'know?" He stretched a bit on the couch, curling his toes against the armrest, and coughed a bit. "And I jus' wanted ta be your friend and you basically shot tha' down, didn't ya?"

_"You're not drunk, but you're getting close to it. If you had another beer you would have been well on your way to being drunk." Sherlock's eyes were sharp as he looked at this boy resting on his couch. "Did I shoot that down? I really didn't. I said make me be your friend, show me that I can trust you. But I don't trust people who drink because they can and pride themselves on their ability to shag people or win a game of rugby." He wanted to get out of this situation, away from this bloody person he had let come over. "I suggest you shut up now and wait for the food to get here. I don't care that I trashed your alcohol that you bought. I've done it to other people before."_

"And did I ever say that I pride myself over it?" John was sitting up now, all malice in his voice gone. Instead, his eyes were wide, mouth slightly open in... pure confusion. "I didn't. I got embarrassed over it. When I do it, think about it, it never feels ridiculous. When I told you though, Jesus," he lifted his free hand and ran it through his hair with a sigh. "It sounded ridiculous. I sound like some idiot teenager who can't control his prick and is more focused on drink over anything else." Which wasn't true. Far from it, actually. He was focused on his studies and wanted to get the best grades possible. "I just want people to accept me, I guess, since my Mum abandoned me."

_"But yet you said it. Typically when people say those things it's because they're at least somewhat proud of it. So that's how I took it." As he got riled up and upset so did Poe, the cat hissing and stalking off to some random part in the flat. He listened when John told him the big thing that seemed to shape him. His mother's abandonment. It made sense to him with the young man's actions. "Then act like yourself by not drinking or shagging someone. Because if you act that way you're just fooling people into something that you're not. Besides, the reputation you're setting up for yourself isn't a good one."_

"What's it gonna matter anyway? I'll end up getting shot anyway. That's my luck." John shrugged and sagged back against the couch. "I told you because you asked. I wasn't going to lie, was I? Say I sat at home every weekend like a perfect child, did my homework and all that fucking shit? That's ridiculous. I told you the truth because you asked what I did. I'm not about lying." He finished off the edible part of the apple and sighed a bit. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all. He was just ruining more relationships, wasn't he? "I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. This was a bad idea."

_"Yes, this was a bad idea." Sherlock stood up like his cat and started walking off. But he paused and pulled out a bit of money from his wallet. "The food should be here soon. Here's money to buy it. There's blankets in the closet across from the bathroom. You're staying the night and I have your keys so don't try to run off with your car. I have work tomorrow, I'll be leaving around eight in the morning, so I'll leave them on the kitchen counter before I go. If you need anything I'll be in my room, down at the end of the hallway near the bathroom." After that speak he walked away from this so he could calm down._

It was now or never, wasn't it? John's thinking was lucid enough and, damn it, he wanted to fix everything. He took a deep breath and moved off the couch. "Wait," he stated confidently, taking the longest strides he could before he reached Sherlock and gently grabbed his wrist. "Just... wait," he muttered. It didn't take a lot of maneuvering to move in front of the taller boy, looking up at him. "I don't regret any of this. I won't," he whispered before taking a deep breath. Just go. He stood on his toes, squeezed Sherlock's wrist, and gently met Sherlock's lips.


	4. Chapter 4

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_Sherlock did pause at the words. He waited for John to reach him, the grab on to his wrist was unneeded, but he found that his eyes were as wide as dinner plates when John's real reason showed. He was kissed. This was his first kiss. He didn't move from where he was, frozen in his spot. A few seconds later, once he had gathered his mind together, he turned his head so John's lips would be on his cheek. "No," he said softly. "Don't do this, John. You're doing it because of the alcohol." Besides, who would want **him** of all people? A skinny, tall, dark haired freak who didn't have any friends to speak of? Not one person._

"I can assure you that's not the alcohol," John said softly, slowly pulling his lips from Sherlock's cheek. "One beer? I could go and pass a driving test," he whispered with a bit of a smirk. Slightly forced but he couldn't help himself. "I've actually wanted to do that for a while and I never imagined you pulling away, so..." A small blushed spread across his cheeks as his hand moved down to grab Sherlock's own, lacing their fingers together. "After three drinks I would agree with you but right now I know what I'm doing. I want to kiss you." He looked up at smiled a bit. It was different than his usual smile. It was... scared, nervous and excited.

_John had wanted to do that to him... for a while? Sherlock just couldn't imagine it. He didn't know what to do because he'd never been in this situation before. Someone wanting to kiss him... Sherlock turned his head to look back at John as he felt their fingers lacing together. He didn't return the hold. Yes, John was attractive but it didn't mean Sherlock was just as interested. His eyes were moving all over John, frantically trying to gather information so he wasn't in this confusing situation any longer. "I don't know," he finally said, eyes still wide. "I don't know if it's a smart idea to do this. I barely know you and you barely know me. I'm not interested in being kissed or shagged then the other person leaving because it was just a one time thing."_

"Well I'm not planning on shagging you tonight," John muttered. His smile was slowly leaving despite the fact that he was now holding Sherlock's hand a little tighter. "And I didn't really plan on just kissing you and then never talking to you again or anything like that. Far from it. I want... You." He smiled again and bit his bottom lip. How did he explain all of this without Sherlock leaving? "I find you attractive and you just, you're amazing. You're no nonsense, you don't take crap. I like that." Now this was just getting awkward. He'd never had anybody turn him down so it was a learning experience. "I won't force you or anything, all right? Just know that I'd kind of like to kiss you again." There. Now Sherlock knew and maybe he'd return the sentiment. 

_Sherlock could feel himself beginning to blush, to show that he was actually rather uncomfortable with this. Not in a bad way but it made his insides squirm in that funny way that he didn't like. This wasn't his field of understanding. "I happen to find you attractive as well," he said softly, the typical Sherlock way gone as he tested this new ground cautiously. "I would like to kiss you, too, but I want to get to know you first. I was always taught that you should know someone before going down that route." His brother had taught him that, it was the only thing the man had said that had actually stuck with him. "If I get to know you a bit better, then we can kiss, alright?" His part had been put out there as well to be tested around with._

Well, at least he thought John was attractive. That made this entire situation just a tad less awkward than it had been. He smiled a bit and squeezed Sherlock's hand, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Yeah, that’s all right," he said with a bit of a smile, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth with a nervous laugh. "I can accept that. We've got about nine weeks before I'm shipped off to Basic Training so we'll see where it goes, yeah?" The blush on his cheeks wasn't leaving. Probably because he was just so bloody _happy_. "Sounds... good. A lot good." Another nervous laugh before he looked down at their hands. "Thank you."

_Nine weeks? Nine weeks were just enough for Sherlock to get attached. Then got John shipped off. That just wasn't fair or right. That was even if Sherlock felt that way. But that also meant he'd be graduating from secondary school in a little under eighteen weeks. He smiled a bit and looked down at their still entwined hands. There was definitely a nervous smile on his face now. "So, how about we sit on the couch and find something to do until the food gets here?" He already started leading them in that direction, sitting himself down on one comfortable cushion._

Anytime somebody led him to a couch saying they would find something to do, it ended in snogging. Not tonight. Definitely not tonight. John sat down beside Sherlock with a grin, foolish but happy. He couldn't really do much more than sit and be happy that the other boy was willing to hold his hand. "Can I snuggle with you?" He asked softly, looking over at Sherlock with wide, curious blue eyes. "Just lean against your side? And we could talk?" It was reaching, really. It was still doing something considerably close, intimate, but he couldn't help himself.

_Snuggling brought up the image of two people lying together, just holding one another to be close and **very** intimate without sex or just a prelude to sex. Sherlock would have said no but John clarified that it was just leaning against his side as they talked. Now that he was fine with. "Yes," he said, his pale eyes down on John's wide ones, knowing that his own were wide as well. "You can lean against my side, nothing more." He was going to have to lend out some trust to see if that's actually how it went in the end. "And you're sleeping on the couch. Just to be clear."_

John snorted a bit and looked up at Sherlock, an eyebrow raised as he slowly leaned against the other boy. It was relaxing despite the lanky, sinewy body he was leaning against. Warm and certainly more human contact than he was used to. He enjoyed it because there were no expectations between them. No snogging or shagging just... talking. "I had planned on sleeping out here," he whispered as he squeezed the boy's hand a bit. "I don't want to invade your personal space at all. Also, I steal blankets. You'd hate me." He let out a sigh and looked up at the boy. "What are you doing after you graduate?"

_Sherlock laughed in a way that sounded more like air coming out his nose. "I steal blankets as well." Or that's what his brother had said every time they shared a bed when they were children or when Sherlock just needed to get out of his parent's home and went to that safe haven. "I'm going to Uni after I graduate. Oxford asked me to go to them. I'm going to double major in Criminal Justice and Chemistry," he said softly as he put an arm over John's shoulder. "What are you going to do in the military?" Playfully he flicked the dog tags John had around his neck._

The arm over his shoulders felt so comforting. John could sit next to Sherlock for the rest of his life and be happy, not kissing or anything else. Just against Sherlock's side and talking. He listened intently until the other boy asked the question, shrugging a bit as he bit his bottom lip. "I've wanted to do medicine but they think I'll end up being just a field medic first. Y'know, I'll have that fancy patch and all but I'll still be infantry. Front line and all that. I won't be able to actually study at St. Bart's until I'm back from my first deployment." He hesitantly moved a hand to rest gently over Sherlock's stomach. "What're you going to do with that degree? Could have two different jobs."

_"Doesn't sound too bad," Sherlock said about John's possible outcome. "You would have the experience needed from that time in the front line to see what it takes to go into that profession." He gently moved John's hand off of his stomach; it was a bit too much. "I'm going to be a consulting detective. I'll help Scotland Yard and people who have gone to the police and gotten no results or people who can't go to the police. I'll use my senses to observe and piece together things that most people can't see or even think of. Whatever is left, no matter how improbable, is the truth."_

All right then. No hand on the stomach. John took the hint immediately. Sherlock was serious about them getting to know each other and he was thankful he at least had an arm around his shoulders. "Sounds interesting. Will they actually contact you, y'think? The Yard, I mean. Or will you just bound up to crime scenes and spout off all the things you see?" He looked up curiously, a smile on his face as he took in the boy's face. Pale and angular but so damn interesting. He was fairly sure he could stare at Sherlock for hours. "You're a bloody genius, though. I'm sure they'd be at your feet begging you to take cases." He just didn't want to talk about the Army anymore.

_"I'll have to build up on cases people have come to me for to seem more legitimate. I already have a gang of people who are around London and just looking for things so I have eyes everywhere." Sherlock adjusted himself on the couch so his feet were tucked up under his body and he was leaning slightly into John. "I'll just go up to crime scenes, though. I'm sure they'll think I'm a suspect but I'll be cleared of course." He smiled a little and shrugged his shoulders. "I just hope by the time I'm thirty I have enough to be considered on all the difficult cases by the police."_

He had his entire life planned out, didn't he? And John was just here running off to the Army and hoping it worked out. The plan just seemed really good. Well, until he heard Sherlock talk about it all. "'S a good plan," he whispered with a bit of a smile. "I think you'll make a name for yourself, really. How could you not?" He curled his fingers against his thigh, not sure what to do with his hands. Snuggling usually involved him doing something as well, not just eagerly taking in the heat of another body. "This take-out place, is it good?" He mumbled as he turned his head and pressed his nose against the inside of Sherlock's bicep.

_Sherlock stayed still against John. It was a habit of his, just being overly still as he sat somewhere. He usually got spacey and would just start talking to himself or Yorick when he was alone. "The take-out place is the best in the area for Chinese food," he said. A few moments later, right after John had moved so his face was more pressed into Sherlock's arm, the doorbell rang. "I've got to get that." He got up, grabbed his money, and went down the stairs. It was the usual delivery boy and he gave a short, awkward, chat with him as they exchanged money and food. When that was over he brought it upstairs again._

The moment Sherlock was gone, John sat up straight. No use just sitting there leaning against nothing. He'd look like an idiot, probably desperate. He could smell the food, though, and his stomach gave a sudden lurch forward. Apparently he was hungrier than he thought. "Let me help you," he said as he stood up, a smile on his lips as he took one of the bags. All of the rice, it looked like, while their meals were in the other bag. "Smells better than anything I could make. Hopefully something worth breaking my diet for," he whispered with a laugh as he found an open spot on the counter and pulled the white containers out.

_Sherlock held the other bag in his hand and went back to the kitchen as well. He set down and got out a couple of clean forks for them. While he was at it he got a can of tuna out for Poe, who came scampering along to eagerly eat. The kitten was small and looked somewhat malnourished. He ran a hand over the cat's spine, getting a hiss from her that didn't freak him out, then went to help John get things together. "It's good, really good. And you shouldn't be on a diet." John looked just fine the way that he was. He grabbed the containers that were his -- he always bought extra that he knew he wouldn't eat right away -- and went back to the living room with the food._

"I need to be on a diet," John corrected with a raised brow. "I can't eat junk food all through the season and expect to play well." That's just not how it worked at all. If he ate healthy, everything fresh without the fat and sugar, then he would be fast, be strong. Processed foods would do nothing but slow him down. "I haven't broken my diet yet this season." He followed after Sherlock, chopsticks in hand, and opened his container as he flopped on the couch and started eating almost immediately. There was no stopping him now. He was hungry, coming off of being a little tipsy, and the metabolism of a young adult male was literally like a train. He shoveled bite after bite into his mouth with no regard to manners in the slightest.

_Sherlock shook his head. He'd always been subjected to diets, which was probably why he couldn't gain any weight anymore. That also probably had to do with the fact that he didn’t eat much. He sat on his chair again, his usual place for eating, and opened up his container of dumplings. With a fork -- he hated using chopsticks -- he stabbed one, eating it slowly. He had been trained to eat slow rather than shovel it all in like John was doing. "You should slow down a bit. You'll get hiccups if you don't." He smiled as he watched him eat the food in front of him. "There's more food if you want it," he said with a gesture to the other container._

The moment John heard Sherlock talking he lifted his head, noodles hanging from his mouth, and let out a shaky breath. Hiccups? There was delicious, fatty food in front of him and all Sherlock cared about was _hiccups_? He snorted a bit and swallowed the massive amount of food in his mouth and let out a small burp. "'S fine, really. I'll regret this in about ten minutes but I'm hungry," he mumbled as he took several more large bites. It was difficult for him to slow down and do anything. He was constantly about doing something, not thinking, and keeping emotions out of it. It had been a little more difficult lately but he was managing. "This place is good," he said, the food in his mouth shoved to one side so he could talk. "Should eat with you more often, yeah?"

_Sherlock couldn't help but start laughing at the sight in front of him. John looked like some bloody animal. He looked worse than Poe when he, or she -- Sherlock was a bit shaky on the sex yet -- brought in a mouse from outside. He couldn't help it at all. When he had calmed himself down he nodded his head and continued eating slowly, the aforementioned cat coming out from its hiding place to jump into the chair with Sherlock, purring as it did so. "I eat there once a week. I'll be sure to tell you the next time dinner's coming from there." He shook his head a bit at how fast John ate before returning to picking around with his food. Poe nudged him, trying to appear innocent so she could get one of the dumplings. In the end Poe did._

When John finally reached the bottom of the white container he dropped his chopsticks into it and leaned back in the chair, letting out a long and shaky sigh. "Worth it," he mumbled after a loud burp. His stomach was puffed out a bit against his shirt. "You have my number, just text me," he stated with a lopsided grin. It was clear now that John was a bit like a kitten, instantly tired after a large meal. His eyes were half open and that ridiculous smile was still on his face. "Your couch is comfortable so I guess I should manage pretty well tonight."

_Sherlock put down his container on the coffee table and got up with Poe jumping down and walking away to go and sleep somewhere. "It was a birthday present last year from Mrs. and Mr. Hudson. They had it down in storage," he said as he got out a blanket for John to use since he was going to be sleeping sooner or later. When he came back he tossed it to John. "You're going to have to cook up that chicken sometime or it won't get used. And I'd rather not keep a whole lot of chicken in my fridge for no reason." He started clearing up their containers and went back to the kitchen._

"I could stay tomorrow night if you'd like," John suggested softly as he curled into himself on the couch and pulled the blanket with him. "I've got homework to do, some paperwork to fill out for the Army. I could have dinner ready to go by the time you come back." It was genuine and a small blush was still on his cheeks because, really, going back to his flat only to have his Mum yell at him didn't seem like the most enjoyable Saturday. "I mean you can say no, if y'want. I don't want to force myself into your personal life or anything." The smile on his lips was sheepish and he pressed his face into the blanket so only his eyes could be seen, locked intently on the other boy.

_John was rather cute when shy. The blush, the smile, the hiding of his face. It was all actions of someone who was younger than he appeared. "Yeah, that sounds fine," he said simply, nodding his head. "I'll get back around five tomorrow. On Sunday you might want to go home or you'll get swept up into the celebration Mrs. Hudson is planning. And I doubt you want to get into that." He took the last trip to the kitchen then came back to stand in the doorway of the living room. "I might have some clothes that'll fit you to sleep in. Come on and I'll find them for you." He motioned for John to follow him as he went back to the kitchen and down the hallway of the bathroom, going to the end where his room was._

Right. Sleeping clothes. John stood up slowly, already pulling his shirt off and tossing it near the couch. "Just bottoms," he stated softly as he followed after Sherlock and walking into his bedroom. Compared to the small closet he slept in at home, the room was massive. No shock, really, that the first picture he saw on the wall was of the Periodic Table. He smiled a bit as he continued to look around the room. The bed was massive, big enough for both of them if they got that close in the next nine weeks, and the blankets and sheets looked damn comfortable. "This room is very... you," he said with a smile and a low chuckle. "I like it."

_Sherlock was in his drawers, shuffling things around to find a pair of sweats he'd stolen from his brother a few years ago. He continued ruffling as he heard John's complement of his room. "Thanks," he said, finally finding them and tossing them over to the shirtless John. Definitely good looking. He had enough muscles for the both of them. "There's a bust of Edgar Allen Poe's and Albert Einstein's heads in here." Other presents from his last birthday. He started searching for his own clothes to sleep in, taking off the suit-jacket and tossing it towards a full hamper of dirty clothes. He undid a couple of buttons of his shirt as well. "I'll see you tomorrow then. I'll leave you the number of my work in case you really need to contact me."_

While standing around John was taking everything in, things he could do to help. "If you don't mind me asking," he muttered as he undid his belt and let his jeans drop, slowly stepping into the pajama pants he'd been thrown, "What kind of celebration is going on Sunday? I'm all for celebrations. Hell, if your landlady is throwing one I think I might hang around. Must be important." He stretched a bit, eyes scanning the laundry basket. He could clean Sherlock's clothes tomorrow, make dinner. Maybe make friends with that cat. He lifted his left hand to reach across his body and rub absently at the wide array of purple and red bruises down the right side of his body from the most recent rugby game.

_Sherlock kept his back to John as he shed his white dress shirt. There were a couple of bruises from run-ins with people from school, but nothing too bad. He pulled on a worn t-shirt, only then tossing the dress shirt towards the hamper. He didn't mess with his pants just yet. "It's a birthday party," he said simply. He didn't go more into depth than that. "I have an ointment for bruises that helps them heal if you want to use it. It's in the right drawer of the bathroom you went into earlier." He sat on his bed; there were a few books on it that he was obviously reading and a few pieces of music that he was working on because he needed something to do when he couldn't sleep. "You don't have to stay for it."_

Sherlock was going on about using some sort of ointment for bruises while he had more than John? "Oi, I think you should use it, not me," he said softly, concern written across his face as he face the other boy. "I'm by no means telling you what to do but... those looked as bad as mine and I know you don't play a contact sport." It was making his blood boil, the fact that somebody had done that to Sherlock. What was even worse was that he knew it was the rugby team, his mates, the people he was supposed to control. But he could forget about that if he focused on the party. A birthday party. Sherlock didn't seem too excited about it and that's when he realized that it was, more than likely, for him. "I'll stay for your birthday party," he said with a sure nod. "Hell, I'll even get you present. What d'you like? Books, yeah? Poe? Have any books on your mind that you'd like?"

_Sherlock sighed softly. They weren't that bad. Just a few bruises that he had sustained because of people who weren't particularly fond of him. He did put on the ointment, it just wasn't taking a fast time to work with the bruises. In a few days they would be gone and that was enough for him. "You don't need to get me a present," he said with a shake of his head. "I don't care for presents. It's just another day, another one that I've gone through. Nothing more than that." Birthday's were pointless to him. They were just an excuse to get someone something that they might never need or use ever again._

Birthdays weren't important? John looked around the room for a moment before smiling a bit. "What if I promise to get you a present that you'll remember for the rest of your life? One that you'll use all the time?" He shrugged and rested his hands on his hips, the pajama pants hanging loosely and clearly too big. "Because I'm staying and I'm not giving the present to you until we're back upstairs and alone. It's going to matter." He moved forward and, damn their boundaries already set up, bent down to place a soft kiss against Sherlock's forehead. "You'll be, what? Seventeen? That's big. And I'm going to be here for you. Me and your landlady. It will be wonderful." He kept his hand resting gently on the side of the boy's face, his palm covering Sherlock's ear.

_Sherlock's eyes were somewhat wide as there were steps taken towards him. The kiss to his forehead was fine, but he was now wondering what the hell John had in mind. A present that he'd remember for the rest of his life? One that he'd always use? Now what could that be? He took a deep breath and said, "It'll be my landlady, her husband, my brother, and you." The combination of the first three always seemed to be the most interesting. He looked at John for a few moments, the hand warm against his cheek. "What are you going to get me," he asked. Upstairs? Alone? Those things spelled out things he wasn't ready for._

Oh. The way he said things might not have been the best. "I'm not going to shag you," John clarified with a smile and a small laugh. "That... yeah, sorry." He moved his thumb to run it gently down the side of Sherlock's cheek, tilting his head to the side a bit. "If I told you then it would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it? That's hardly any fun." His voice was soft as his thumb continued to run across the other boy's cheek. "I think you'll like it, though," he added in a whisper, a nervous blush starting to spread across his cheeks and down his chest. "At least I hope you do. It's... it's two parts."

_Good. Not shagging. "Tell me. I hate surprises." He moved himself so his legs were tucked under his body, looking up at John from how close they were. Sherlock happened to like the warmth of another person close to him. He always had, but mainly in a brotherly sense. He was used to sharing beds but this was just different in some way that he barely grasped. "Just tell me, alright. I'll keep bothering you about it until you decide to tell me." Sherlock reached up and put a hand on John's arm, squeezing it gently._

"You'll keep bugging me?" John smiled, his teeth flashing a bit in the light of the room, and chuckle. "That's for wha', one day? I think I can handle it." The feeling of Sherlock's hand on his arm, the gentle squeeze, made a shiver run up his spine. That contact was like bloody fire and he loved it. All he wanted to do was lean down and kiss Sherlock. Slow and long... but held himself in check, licking his lips instead and swallowing hard. "I just want to see the look on your face when you see it... them. I want to see that smile you give me when I look like a bloody idiot." He lifted his other hand and rested it on the back of Sherlock's neck, massaging it gently.

_Them? It? Sherlock was becoming relaxed because of the massage on his neck. He had a sensitive neck and back. Now, he felt completely pliable. His head went forward to rest on John's chest, the curls resting on John's chin. "Tell me. I want to know what you have in mind for my birthday present that no one will see except us." His mind was racing to figure it out; something that could be classified as ‘them’. "Is it something to do with your dog tags," he questioned, feeling like that might be a right guess. "Or some kind of other jewelry?"_

John's eyes went wide for a moment and a snorted. "Bloody genius," he whispered with the best nod he could manage. "I've got several pairs. Yeah, I was going to give you one," he added as the hand on Sherlock's cheek moved down to wrap around the boy's lithe frame and rest between his shoulder blades, massaging that area gently as well. "That's just one part, though. The other part I guess I could give to you in front of everybody. Less personal and all that." He closed his eyes and let his chin rest on top of Sherlock's head, enjoying the contact and warmth between them. In all honesty, he was shocked that Sherlock was letting him do this.

_Sherlock sighed softly. His stress was carried in his shoulders and he could feel the knots there as soon as John touched that area. "Alright," he murmured. Seemed that as soon as he got the dog tags they would end up being an item of some kind, something that people would know about within a few moments. He didn't move from John's body. "And what are you going to give me that can be given in front of people? Music sheets, a book, something for Poe to extend a nice gesture for that creature?" He was just guessing now, like he had been before._

"No," John whispered as he found a knot and gently started working on it, licking his lips as he smiled softly. "You'll not guess this one, Sherlock," he added as he leaned forward a bit. "And it won't be for that cat you've got. I think he'll hate me for the bane of his existence. I'm all right with that." His hand moved and found another knot, working it out as the hand on Sherlock's neck moved up to the base of the boy's skull. "Feels like you've need a bit of a massage," he mumbled as his fingers worked a bit tougher on a specific knot. "Should have told me earlier."

_"Poe doesn't like anyone. She barely tolerates me." He and Poe were a lot alike. That's why he liked the creature so much. He breathed out slowly as the harder knots surfaced for John's fingers to find. His teeth gritted as it hurt when John tried to work a particularly nasty one out. "I always have these. It comes with being in situations I've been in." Very slightly he pulled away so he could look up at John. There was a tired look in his eyes. "Can you leave for a minute? I need to change out of my slacks. You can come back in once I'm done. I'm counting the second birthday present as a massage that can be given after you give me the dog tags, so there's no need to give me something in front of everyone."_

John pulled away gently, instantly missing the warmth of Sherlock's body. "Yeah, of course," he said with a nod. "But I can give you a third present, then. A massage and I'll do that in front of everybody, too," he joked softly as he turned and slowly left the room. He shut the door and almost instantly leaned against it. His legs felt like jell-o and, Jesus, he needed to control himself. Sherlock was attractive and now his personality, so calming and wonderful... How could he not kiss the bloke? He took a shaky breath and ran his hands down his face, biting his bottom lip. Maybe he could try again when he went back into the room? Just soft, quick, gentle. During the massage. Would Sherlock get upset with him?

_Sherlock smiled a little at the joke but shook his head. No. He didn't think a massage in front of everyone would go down well. After a few moments of adjusting to the silence he stood up and shed his slacks, tossing them where all the other clothes were. He padded around his room in the t-shirt, long black socks, and boxer-briefs to his dresser where he retrieved a pair of well fitting sweatpants. A flutter of nervous butterflies erupted in his stomach as he remembered that John was going to give him a massage. How could things not develop from there? At least he understood the basic formalities of how relationships started. He sat back down on his bed, crossing a leg over the other at the knee. "You can come back in."_

John stood up and blew a noisy breath through his lips. Calm. Snogging Sherlock would probably ruin everything and he didn't want that. He turned and gently opened the door, smiling as he walked in. The door was left open because, in all honesty, closing it felt like he expected something. That was nearly too much. "Don't you look dashing? Very posh pajamas," he whispered as he stood several feet in front of Sherlock. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth. The moment from earlier seemed to be gone, he couldn't place his finger on it but the idea of touching Sherlock suddenly seemed off limits again. "D'you still want that massage, then?"

_Sherlock's eyes, as usual, flickered over everything and every action. The open door was not lost to it and the gesture was appreciated. He smiled and rested his hands on his lap as he looked at John, who was just awkwardly standing there with obviously a hesitation on doing something. He removed his hands from his lap to give himself a more open body language than a closed one. "I come from a posh family. Everything about me has to be posh," he said in a straight tone, joking but keeping the hints little that he was. "I'd still like that massage." He moved more to his bed, pushing a few books out of the way towards the other edge of the bed._

John took a slow step forward, his chest expanding with each breath. Massage. It was just a massage and Sherlock needed on desperately. "Good," he whispered as he lifted a knee and climbed slowly on to the bed. They were so close right now, knees inches apart and faces so close that John was fairly certain he could feel each breath the boy exhaled. "Obviously a couple of ways to do this," he said with a small nod, clearing his throat. "I could sit back against the headboard and... yeah, or you could lay down a-and," he looked up at Sherlock and dropped his head. He was making it all worse, wasn't he?

_Just from the closeness Sherlock knew that they were going to kiss. He had his hands back on his lap, long legs tucked under his body. He listened to John's nervous stutters. He was silent for some time before leaning in and pressing a chaste, virginal, kiss to John's lips; quick and barely there. "Just to get it out of your system so you can concentrate," he explained. "How about you sit against the headboard and I'll sit between your legs." John straddling him wasn't something he was ready for just yet. He wondered if anything like that would happen by the time John left for basic training. "Can I ask you a question?"_

The quick press of lips made John tense for a moment before he smiled sheepishly. "I... yeah, that was good," he muttered as he moved to sit against the headboard. He spread his legs without a second thought, looking up at Sherlock with a raised brow. That question typically didn't end well but he was already rather committed to forming a friendship. He wanted to call Sherlock Holmes one of his best friends. "Yeah, of course," he said with a nod and a small, simply shrug. "Ask away." He grinned and shifted slightly to make sure he was comfortable. What was Sherlock going to ask, then? He really didn't know what to expect.

_Sherlock moved and sat between John's legs, his posture perfect with a straight back. He turned his head to look at John. "It's nothing bad," he assured, placing his hands in his lap again. He chewed on his cheek for a few moments before deciding to just ask the question. "When you give me your dog tags does that mean we're an item?" That word just sounded so old fashioned but it worked for this moment. "Are we going to be dating or at least you wanting to date me? Or is it just a friendly gesture?" It would be an odd friendly gesture seeing that John and him had kissed and agreed to some kind of loose dating structure._

Not a horrible question, really, and definitely one that was understandable. John lifted his hands and returned to the knot he'd found earlier, working it gently. "Both?" He finally whispered in reply. What else could he say? "It's a friendly gesture, certainly, but I wouldn't mind dating you," a pause before he caught himself. "In your time, of course. I would really enjoy calling you my boyfriend." There. It was out there. He'd felt that way the moment he'd spotted Sherlock. The boy was bloody attractive. "But I'm not going to force you into anything, Sherlock. If you don't want to date me, though, I understand." Leaving for the Army was a big reason to say no and maybe Sherlock just didn't like him at all.

_He hissed as the fingers found that spot again, sounding quite like Poe did earlier. Sherlock still listened to the words, taking in everything he heard. He knew that he had to decide something so he fell silent, hoping that John would gather he was thinking about this. The young man had a good personality, he was nice, caring for others, willing to be patient, honored the wishes of others, and he was persistent. Then there was the fact that he seemed to hide things about his life, like how he had a bad family, but Sherlock was no different in that department. He breathed out slowly and felt that knot work out slowly. By the time it was gone he had his answer. "I'd like to try my hand at dating you."_

It felt like a brick had been lifted off of John's chest and he let out a giddy sigh, shaky and ending in laughter. That was good news, wasn't it? At some point he'd get to call Sherlock Holmes his boyfriend. He moved his hands slowly down to the bottom of Sherlock's shoulder blades, working the muscles there with ease. "That's good to hear, I like that," he whispered as he leaned forward. A daring move, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. His lips settled over the place where the knot had been, placing a soft kiss on the tender area before pulling back so his forehead could rest against Sherlock's spine. "And I'll honor any wish you have. Waiting, getting to know each other, all of it."

_There it was. He breathed out slowly at the touches, relaxing at it. The kiss was something he had expected from John. Sherlock put his hand on one of John's knees that were beside his hips. He nodded his head a bit. "Good. I want to wait to do anything so I can actually know you." And it felt like the best idea with how new he was to that. "You can kiss me, though, and you can tell people to knock it off if they're bothering me because you actually have a real reason to tell people to do that." Practically dating seemed like it would be a good reason to tell people not to attack him._

In one day everything had changed and, for the first time in a while, John couldn't help but smile and relax. Everything was good, comforting... he had somebody to focus on and care for. "You'll have to tell me when you're ready to, y'know, make it Facebook official and all that," he said with a short laugh, his head tilting forward so he could place another kiss against Sherlock's back. His hands moved, found another knot, and worked at it gently. "So you'll write me while I'm gone, yeah? And not let other blokes give you such a wonderful back massage?"

_A laugh slipped from Sherlock's lips as his head dropped down to relax for the first time in a long time. "I don't have a Facebook. Feel free to make it 'Facebook official' when you want, whatever that means. And I'll write to you. I doubt I'm going to find someone who wants to give me back massages like this because I don't go out looking for them." He moved a hand to rest on John's shin. Beneath the sweatpants he was borrowing he could feel John's leg muscles. It was like he was built for war without the training. "Since you're going to be over here more, I'm going to make sure to order more food so you break your unneeded diet."_

That laugh made John's stomach twist. It was real, wonderful, and he had the feeling not many people got to hear it. "You want to break my diet?" He whispered as he finished with one knot and moved immediately to the next one. "I might gain weight, then. I'm not too keen to do that." A smile tugged at his lips at the feeling of Sherlock's hand. Just resting there but it felt like an anchor, something he could rely on. "I look forward to your letters," he mumbled lazily, resting his head a bit heavier against the other male's back. "Will you tell me all about London and Uni? How much you miss me and my wonderful massages?"

_"You won't gain weight. Not if you equal out the calories taken in with how much you burn. You just have to work out harder or about as much as you always do and it will be fine." Sherlock had a feeling John had been joking around with him. He was almost sure that they were going to fall asleep in this position if they kept it up like this. "I'll tell you about London, Uni, and anything else that comes to mind. That includes how much I miss your massages and that I’d like you back so you can give me one without having to pay for it to get done."_

John yawned, his hands slowing gradually. "If I don't leave now I'm going to break one of your rules," he whispered, not bothering to lift his head. "I don't want to break any of your rules," he added as his hands slid down Sherlock's sides to rest on his hips. He didn't move after that, just enjoying the fact that they were this close. "But if you want to wake me up with a kiss tomorrow morning before you run off to work I won't complain at all." He smiled against Sherlock's back, trailing soft kisses on the underside of the boy's right shoulder blade.

_That was a bit much. Sherlock wriggled himself away after the kisses under his shoulder blade with a shiver of something he didn’t want to feel just yet. He looked at John, turning his body around so he could face him. "You should probably get going then," he suggested, his blue-grey eyes on John's face. "The couch is comfortable, I promise you that you'll sleep well on it." He smiled a little and got off the bed, going to his dirty clothes to retrieve his pack of cigarettes. After getting that and a lighter, he shook one stick out, opening up a window so the room wouldn't smell like smoke and cause Mrs. Hudson to shout at him about it._

John watched Sherlock for a long moment, taking a moment to realize that those several kisses were probably a bit too intimate. He smiled sleepily in the boy's direction and didn't move. He wanted to talk, to stare at Sherlock and take him in. "Yeah, probably," he mumbled as he finally moved, feet touching the cold floor with a small hiss from his lips. "Thanks for everything," he said softly, biting his bottom lip and scratching gently at the muscles stretched across his stomach. "See you tomorrow then? When you get back from work and all that. Text me when you leave so I can start dinner." He nodded, studied Sherlock's body once, and then left the room.

_"I'll text you when I'm leaving." He smiled a bit then lit the tip of the cigarette. John was gone within a few moments after, leaving Sherlock alone to smoke his cigarette, allowing the toxic stuff to mingle with his lungs. Poe wandered in and curled up on his bed, just going through the usual routine. Sherlock stayed up late that night, finding that he couldn't sleep. Thirty minutes before his alarm would go off, he actually got to sleep. The alarm went off, he got up and showered, going into the kitchen with a dripping wet body and only a towel around his waist to start the coffee up and turn on a bit of music to help himself wake up, before going into his room to get dressed._


	5. Chapter 5

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

Music. John grumbled and pressed his face further into the borrowed pillow, burrowing into his blanket to drown out the noise. It wasn't horrible, per say, but it was slightly annoying this early in the morning. On a Saturday. While he was sleeping. He sat up, eyes narrowed against the growing sunlight in the room, and huffed loudly. His hair was up in every direction, making him look more disheveled. The sound meant Sherlock was definitely awake, getting ready for work no doubt, and he could have sworn he smelled coffee. "Did you make enough for me?" He shouted toward the bedroom, not bothering to move from his sitting position on the couch.

_Sherlock's typical routine was in play now. He exited the bedroom, buttoning up the dress shirt he had chosen for that day. It was black, matching the jacket and slacks he was wearing. That's when he heard John shout. "Yeah," he said, "There's enough for the both of us." He went to the kitchen and got two mugs for them. His shirt was still untucked, meaning it rode up slightly from the stretch to get the stuff down. "How do you take your coffee?" Already he was pouring some of the bitter liquid in the cups, claiming his by taking a slip. He turned the music down a bit. Probably a bit too loud. He got out what was left of his Chinese food and took a bite from a cold dumpling before sticking it in the microwave to heat it up._

John watched the slight exposure of the pale skin on Sherlock's stomach as he finally made his way into the kitchen, mouth twitching in a soft smile. "Just cream," he mumbled as he went into the fridge, happy he'd bought some at the market yesterday. He poured it into his mug to taste, taking a sip and ending his swallow with an appreciative hum. Expensive coffee, that was obvious. It was delicious. John could live here for the rest of his life and be content. He set his mug down and jumped up to sit on the empty bit of counter he'd found, swinging his feet slightly as he watched Sherlock. "Where d’you work?" He asked softly, tilting his head which caused some of his hair to flop dramatically to the side.

_Again John's hair was mussed and sticking up every which way. Sherlock chuckled over it as he took a sip from his own mug, going to get out the food he had heated up when it was finished. He sat down on his chair and ate just as slowly as the night before. "I work at a bookshop that's not too far from here." He took a sip of the black coffee before standing up to go and get cigarette to have with his meal, another typical thing he did. When he got back with the lighter and fag, he sat down and lit the end. "Do you work anywhere," he questioned after a drag in. Something told him that John didn't but he waited to hear it for himself. He stabbed another dumpling for himself._

John picked up his mug, taking a long sip before nodding his head. "Yeah," he muttered with a small but proud smile. "I'm already enlisted in the Army so they pay me. Not a lot, really, but enough to get by." He studied the cigarette curiously before licking his lips and holding his mug in both of his hands. "It'll go up once I go to Basic and all that, especially once they ship me out to Afghanistan. Send it straight to my bank account." He reached across the small stove and grabbed one of the bananas he bought, opening it and taking a large bite. "I'll be set for a while once I get back to London."

_Sherlock listened and nodded his head as he did so. By the time John got back he'd have a tidy sum in his bank account, not to mention if he got paid anything extra for other things he did. He took another drag in, the tip glowing ember as he did so, turning head to blow out the grey smoke. "Doesn't sound too bad," he answered, leaning back in his chair. "Then you can go and work at St. Bart's after you get back. That'll be a nice bit of money." He tapped off the ashes gathering at the end of the cigarette. "How long are you going to be shipped out there?" The cigarette was set down, the smoke just going up and into the room as Sherlock focused more on eating._

As wonderful as it was to think about the money, the time period made John's stomach twist uncomfortably. "Basic is ten weeks. I'll get a week break to come back, say goodbye and all that shit, and then go to Afghanistan for nine months." He swallowed around the words, clearing his throat and trying not to focus too much on that. Or the fact that he might not come back at all. "Basically an entire year, yeah? A whole year of my life to the Army." The words were bitter in his mouth and he covered them with a large gulp of coffee, ignoring the burn across his tongue. He swallowed it with a small grimace, finishing off his banana with a harsh bite.

_"You chose to do that." Sherlock looked down after saying those words. He knew it had been the wrong thing to say, that he should have been more sympathetic towards John, but the teen had made a choice to go into the army. He could have just gone to uni and taken out a student loan like most people were doing as soon as they got out of secondary school. Quietly he cleaned up his dishes then stubbed out his cigarette. "I'm going to get going to work. Mrs. Hudson can tell you where to find me if you need me while I'm still working." He made sure he had his wallet and phone before glancing over John, feeling that now wasn't the time to give him that kiss. So he turned and started walking towards the door._

Those words were not something John fancied hearing, especially from Sherlock. His eyes narrowed and he didn't bother to look up from his mug, deciding instantly that his rapidly cooling coffee was far more interesting. He didn't bother to say goodbye, simply slid from the counter and made his way toward the couch. He casually flipped the telly on, settling on some boring news channel. "Have fun at work, then," he mumbled, lifting his mug in a sort of 'cheers' before finishing it off. He was more keen to sleep the rest of the day now instead of doing his homework.

_Sherlock left the flat, going in the usual way to work. The day was mostly spent working alongside Molly Hooper, the daughter of the man who ran the store. She was sweet and kind. They shared interests with each other but nothing enough to make him feel attracted to her. He put up books while she took care of the customers. Around noon he took a quick lunch break, mainly standing outside the back of the store and thinking about how he screwed it up so early in the game. John hadn't even said goodbye to him. He went back into the store to go on with his work day._

After sleeping until noon John groaned and studied his phone. He should probably text Sherlock, say something and stop acting like a dick. It was all right for him to be upset, though. He'd certainly made the choice but he felt trapped, felt like he had no other way out. After several minutes of staring at a blank text with Sherlock as the recipient, he started moving his fingers across the keyboard on his touch-screen.

Sorry about this morning. I shouldn't have acted like a dick, you didn't do anything wrong. -JW

There. That would certainly help things, wouldn't it? He wasn't yelling or upset, simply apologizing. Now all he had to do was hope that Sherlock looked at his phone while he was at work.

_In his jacket pocket his phone vibrated. Sherlock finished up what he was doing, just placing books away in alphabetical order in a usual pace. There was no rush to look at his phone, to see if it was John. For all he knew it could be his brother confirming the times that he was allowed to arrive and the time that he could leave. Once he finished his task he pulled out his phone and read over the apology message that was sent by John, a small smile forming on his face._

_Apology accepted. -SH_

_He sent the simple two word text then went back to working, feeling a bit better than before with the knowledge that he wasn't going to get back to his flat and find that John was there still moping about and ignoring him. If that had happened Sherlock would have just told the teen to leave and not return until he stopped being so childish._

Despite the fact that the text was short it made John smile. Apology accepted. Reading the text again made him laugh a bit, burrowing under the several blankets he'd used the night before. This was getting ridiculous but he hardly cared anymore. He couldn't place soft kisses against Sherlock's back, couldn't snog him into next week, but that suddenly didn't matter. He started his reply with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Do I get a kiss when you come back from work, then? -JW

He had definitely regretted not getting his goodbye kiss that morning but he would accept a kiss from Sherlock when he got back.

_Molly was giving him an odd look as he got another reply from John that made him smile widely. That made him check himself so he was acting normal. The last thing he wanted this girl to feel was bad since she had a crush on him and had been trying to get him to accept a date -- by asking very artfully he would add -- since the first day they had started working together. She wasn't his type, but he did trust her and found her an asset._

_Perhaps. I'll see how I feel when I get back. -SH_

_He tried to make the text a bit flirtatious but he felt that it would be lost in the words. Sherlock just wasn't good at those things and he knew it. Maybe on his birthday he'd let John actually kiss him rather than those short pecks they'd shared._

John chuckled and bit his bottom lip, peaking out of his blanket when he heard something move downstairs. He didn't need Sherlock's landlady thinking he was some sort of nutter for giggling to himself. It would make the next day almost completely awkward, he was sure. That's not what he wanted. He read the text again and thought for a long moment on how to reply. He knew he was distracting Sherlock at work but if the boy kept replying then it must not have been too important.

Probably? What do I have to do to make you feel like giving me a kiss? I'll keep my hair an utter mess if I must. -JW

Not the best flirting he'd ever done over a mobile but it was clear Sherlock was new to this. He could help Sherlock, no doubt, and he was rather bored as it was.

_The store was practically empty. There were a few customers, but they were all people who came there regularly and didn't need help finding things. Sherlock had the luxury of working on sorting through books in the small, family owned business that sold and bought books at half price. Molly did more of the interacting with customers because of her nervous disposition towards people, meaning she needed more socialization. His phone buzzed and he finished putting away the book he was on before reading it._

_Your hair makes me laugh, but if you think that will increase your chances of kissing me, go right ahead and keep it a complete and utter mess. -SH_

_Sherlock moved down the aisle to sort through more books, leaning over the edge to sort through the authors by last name, fingering the pages to see how good of a condition they were in so he would know where to put them. Texting John was much more interesting than working._

Leave it to a bloody genius to get good at this after just two texts. John giggled into his blankets, knowing his cheeks were probably a bright red. He was still tired and knew that if he took a nap now he would wake up to Sherlock being home. That would mean dinner, talking, more soft touches. He smiled at the thought and curled into himself, knees pressing against the back of the couch.

Going to nap to keep my hair just as messy. Hope I dream about getting to kiss you. Get back to work you little slacker. -JW

After hitting send he yawned, holding his mobile tightly in his hand as he slowly fell asleep.

_Again, he found himself smiling at the message. Sherlock seemed to be grasping the concept of flirting now. His phone was put back away and he went back to working, knowing that he would be greeted by more than a cat when he got home. It felt like John was going to be mainly at his place for the next nine weeks, just trying to get Sherlock's affection back before he had to go to basic training. If John made Sherlock feel important already on the first real day of whatever they were entering he was sure the man would get what he wanted._

_Coming back to the flat. If your hair is still messy you just might get your kiss. -SH_

_It was around five now and Sherlock was leaving from his shift, collecting that week's paycheck so he could cash it at the bank as usual. With a wave to Mr. Hooper and Molly he left, walking back quickly through the nippy air to 221B. He arrived, greeted Mrs. Hudson, then started up the stairs to his flat._

John snored loudly against his pillow, drooling slight against the fabric beneath his face. He shifted slightly as his phone vibrated in his hand but didn't wake up, simply turned away from it and let it slip into the mess that was his blankets. Somewhere in his sleeping daze he knew that meant Sherlock had texted him but it didn't matter because in his dream Sherlock was kissing him, running a hand through his hair to tame it-- Footsteps. Sherlock. John shot up from his place on the couch, eyes wide as his sleepy mind tried to piece everything together. Was that Sherlock or his landlady? He scratched lazily at his bare chest, yawned, and kept his gaze locked on the doorway.

_Oh lovely. Sherlock entered the room and saw John's appearance. There was drool on a pillow, now making that something more to wash, and the hair was very messy. He snorted softly and said, "Go back to sleep." It was around time he usually had dinner but from John's appearance he wasn't anywhere close to making food. Another night of leftover takeout or just buying more. He walked back from the living room to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him quietly and went to the edge of the tub. A bath seemed like a good idea for tonight. He was cold and it would give John time to wake up. He started running the warm water and undressed._

No kiss then? John moved his feet from under the blankets, stretching for a long moment before moving into the kitchen. He could be wide awake. Sherlock needed a nice, home-cooked meal. He started the coffee maker and got the chicken from the fridge, popping it in a pan that Sherlock had borrowed from Mrs. Hudson. He grabbed everything he could need, dousing them in lemon juice and red pepper. He let them cook for a bit as he took the fresh green beans and put them in a separate pan, putting some low-fat butter in them as well. There. Dinner. He grinned as he poured himself a mug of coffee, put cream in, and slid up on the counter to watch his cooking food.

_The bath lasted about thirty minutes. Sherlock had to stop himself from falling asleep in there multiple times, his body completely relaxed. He got out, the water draining away, and dressed again in the clothes he had worn for work. He shuffled out of the bathroom, down towards the kitchen where he smelled food cooking. And it smelled great. A smile came on his face when he saw John. Now that he was awake he went to him and pressed a kiss to his lips softly before raking his fingers through the messy blonde hair. "You got your kiss," he said, playfully taking John's coffee to take a sip from it. He needed to get more sleep that night. Running on thirty minutes of energy wasn't too good for him._

John smiled against Sherlock's lips, looking at him with a lopsided smile. That was nice and the hand through his hair was even better. "And it was a very nice kiss," he whispered as he watched Sherlock take his coffee. He didn't mind in the slightest. He figured that at some point they would be swapping spit so just sharing a mug didn't bug him too much. "Enjoy your bath, then? You smell delicious," he said as he gently leaned forward and gave the boy another short, chaste kiss. He couldn't help himself in the slightest. Sherlock was close and, honestly, had rather soft lips that John could kiss all day. "How was work, then?"

_The way John's hair stayed after he messed with it was honestly rather amusing to him. Sherlock took another drink from the coffee then set it down next to John. "I did enjoy my bath. It was very relaxing," he said after the kiss. He shuffled his feet forward to press his head into John's chest, breathing in deeply. "You should take a shower, get your hair back to normal. I've got extra towels that you can use." He peeked up at him and answered the question. "Work was good. Same thing that I do every day but I get paid good money for it. Texting you made it much more interesting than it usually is. You should text me more often when I'm there."_

Without a moment's hesitation John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, holding him close and smiling as he did so. "Saying I smell?" He whispered with a small laugh as he scratched gently at the back of the boy's neck. "I might do that after dinner. I have to see the look on your face when you eat a home-cooked meal." He placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's temple before glancing at the food. One hand moved to flip the chicken and stir the fresh green beans before he looked down at the boy. "I can do that, you just need to tell me when you're at work," he whispered with a wide grin. "Your flirting skills improved drastically in just three texts, if you're curious."

_"You smell like my couch if that's what you mean." Sherlock smiled as his neck was scratched. His hips were against the counter with his face still nice and pressed into John's chest, breathing in deeply. "I've had a home-cooked meal before, you know. It's not like it's the first one I've had in ages." But it had been a few weeks. Mrs. Hudson liked feeding him at least once every month. He pulled away slightly, running his own fingers through his damp hair. "I'll take that as a complement then. You'll just have to text me more often so I can improve more. I work about every night after school and on Saturdays. Sometimes on Sundays but lately I haven't been."_

"Give me a written one, I'll forget," John whispered as he rotated at his waist to turn the stove off. "Oi, I know, but you haven't had a John Watson home-cooked meal before. They're bloody fantastic, they are." He raised a brow and lifted an arm, sniffing dramatically and then shrugging. "You think your couch is bad? Wait 'til you catch a whiff of me after rugby practice," he said with a loud laugh.He slid from the counter the best he could, brushing his hand across Sherlock's lower back as he moved to grab plates, searching several cabinets before he found them, and prepared both of them with ease. "Here, eat up," he said with a smile.

_Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved back a bit. He couldn't help but smile at John. "I'd really rather not. And don't you even think of hugging me after you practice." He wasn't sure what he would do if that happened but it would sure be something. He smiled at the hand on his lower back then sat down at the table. The food looked even better up close, perhaps even better than his usual take-out food. He picked up a fork and gave the food a look before taking a picky bite of the food. As he thought, it was great. "You need to make me food more often," he said with another bite._

John grinned and took a bite of the chicken, chewing it slowly as he sat down in his seat. "Lemon pepper chicken and fresh green beans," he muttered around his bite of food as he took a large bite of his green beans. "Glad you like it." He sat back in his chair, studying Sherlock intently. He figured he would continue to cook for Sherlock now. It wouldn't be too much of a problem, really, if he was at the flat a lot more often. "I've got a couple of meals I think you'll really like. Real healthy and all that so you can eat a bit more if you want." It wasn't a low jab or anything, merely an observation.

_Sherlock continued taking those little and picky bites. He smiled slightly and looked at John as he heard the suggestion on eating more because it was healthy. "I don't eat little because it's unhealthy," he finally said, stabbing a few green beans before eating them. "My brother's bigger than me in his build and ever since I was little I was put on a diet with him so he would have someone else doing it with him. I've always eaten very little food. It's how I was taught to eat." He cut himself a small piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. "My parents were very odd as you can tell."_

John shrugged, taking a large bite of his chicken as chewing it thoroughly. "Oi, each parent to their own. Sometimes they raise their kids like that. Not odd at all. Different, a bit," he smiled and brushed it off. "But that's all right. My Mum, she worked two jobs after my Dad died. She worked a lot. People might view that as bad parenting but when I was younger she just worked hard, was there to make me breakfast and there for dinner. That was all that mattered to me." Another bite, eyes cast down to his plate so he didn't have to look up after that admission. Nobody really knew that. "I would say that you need to eat a bit more but I'm not going to force anything on you. I also wish you'd sleep more."

_"Your mum just sounds like a parent trying to deal with a loss of income. It's nothing bad." Sherlock took a few more bites, eating about half the food on his plate, before setting down the fork and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't comment more on what John had told him, knowing that he wasn't going to want to comment more on it. "I just couldn't sleep last night. I'll sleep better tonight," he honestly said. He breathed out slowly before saying, "My parents were bad parents. My dad drinks, or drank, a lot and since my mom had quite a few affairs going I was the one who took care of him. He hated me. Still does." He shrugged and grabbed his plate to take care of it._

John looked up and bit his bottom lip. "But now you're here," he commented with a bit of a smile. "A lot better, I would think. On your own, making a living. You turned out pretty well despite all that." He smiled and finished the food, turning to set his plate in the sink. "Don't do the dishes, mate, I'll do them," he said with a small nod. "I will tickle you to death or something if you touch them, I swear." He grinned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Sherlock's cheek before moving into the bathroom and shutting the door. He did need to shower and despite the fact that he would smell just like Sherlock, which might be a fantastic thing, he just need a little time to think and relax. He turned the water on, making it as hot as he could handle, and eagerly got in.

_The only reason he was at this flat was because his father had beat the shit of him. But he didn't mention that. Sherlock smiled, watching John leave go to the bathroom. Despite how he was told not to do the dishes he went ahead and did them, putting the leftover food in containers then in the fridge while the other food went into the trashcan. Dishes were in the dishwasher. Sherlock went to his bedroom and changed into the same clothes he had slept in the night before but with a dressing gown pulled over it so he would be warm. Poe saw him and mewed in the way that let him know she -- Sherlock was calling the cat a definite she now -- was hungry. He went to the kitchen and got her food before going to the living room to lay on his chair._

John washed up, pulling on the same clothes as the day before with a small wince. He'd need to get some new pants and trousers at some point. He walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair try with a towel as he walked into the kitchen. That's when he froze, eyes narrowed. "Oi, I hope you're ticklish," he said as he dropped the towel on the floor by the kitchen table and moving into the living room. "I said to let me clean up!" He said was he laughed and put his hands on his hips. "Sherlock Holmes, I told you to wait. I don't want you doing anything. You're nearly the birthday boy! How could I expect you to eat _and_ clean up?"

_Sherlock smiled, his head hanging over one end of the armchair to look at John from upside down. There was a smile on his face, one that he was keeping back so not to look too pleased with himself. "You cooked, I cleaned. Seems on fair." He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "If you're going to want to tickle me you're going to have to catch me first." He got up from the chair with that same smile, crossing his arms over his chest tighter. "And I don't think running around looking for me." He backed up slowly towards the door that would lead towards the stairs. A smile was wider on his face now._

"Chase you?" John chuckled and took a step forward, a grin on his face. "Yeah? Are you really challenging me? Oh, Sherlock," he took a step forward and shook his head. This would end up to be a lot of fun, he figured. He was rather excited for it now. Chasing Sherlock, getting to tickle him when he finally caught the younger male. Very good indeed. "I'm going to catch you and tickle you until you can't breathe," he said with another step forward. This would end up being a crucial moment, he figured, in the build up of their relationship. Flirting. They were _flirting_. He lunged forward and reached for the loose end of the shirt Sherlock had on.

_They were both in good shape so he figured that it would end up being a nice chase but he would have to let John catch him. Sherlock understood the rules of flirting and this was definitely one of them. He watched John's muscles tense and moved out of the way before John could actually catch his shirt. It was either stay in the flat or go out to the streets of London. He chose the flat by moving, just as graceful as a cat, past John, almost dancing away towards his bedroom, where he shut the door behind him. Either he could go out the window or hide in his closet where there were enough clothes at the bottom to hide. He was in the closet a second later with the door shut like it had been._

John laughed loudly and ran after Sherlock, pushing the bedroom door open with ease. He was ready to reach out and grab Sherlock but was instantly silenced when the room was empty. That confused him and he glanced back down the hall, eyes narrowed. "What the..." He took a hesitant step into the room, shutting the door so he would at least hear the other boy if he ended up leaving. "I'm gonna find you," he muttered with a small smile, bending to look under the bed and sighing. "Can't hide forever," he added in a whisper as he eyed the closet. Clearly the only place Sherlock could be. He slowly opened the door and studied the inside. That... was a lot of clothes. "Sherlock?"

_Sherlock was good at hiding. Mycroft had taught him well. He was extremely quiet buried under the clothes. He could hear John talking to himself as he looked around the room. He had slightly trapped himself but, with any luck, he could go between John's legs if it came to that. His breathing stopped so there wouldn't be any stirring now that John had opened the door and was looking around. When his name was said he gave no answer nor movement. It was deathly quiet. With any luck John would just leave, maybe sit on the bed for a while then get bored. But he thought that wouldn't happen. John seemed about as competitive as he was with certain things._

For a long moment John considered leaving to search the rest of the flat, nearly convinced Sherlock was a bloody magician, but he was pretty sure that there were far too many clothes for somebody not to hide down there. He looked down at the pile before squatting and starting to toss some of the clothes out of the way. "I'm going to find you and tickle you," he whispered to himself before he saw a black sock that looked a tad too perfect for it to be laying in the dirty clothes pile. He smirked to himself and grabbed it, pride rushing through him as he grabbed Sherlock's foot. "Found ya!"

_Sherlock still didn't move even when John began moving clothes around, tossing them to the side so that he could see if there actually was someone in there. Then he was caught. A hand closed around his foot. He darted his other foot out to push John's hand off of his foot. The only goal there was to get his foot free. He'd rather not get dragged out by his foot to somewhere else so he could be tickled. In the clothes pile, all clothes that he needed to put away still, he sat up. The pile was about up to his navel. He wriggled his foot around in John's hand to see if that would make the grip loosen._

John looked up the moment Sherlock was sitting, laughing as he lunged forward as gently as possible and went straight for Sherlock's sides. "Oi, you, hiding in clothes," he whispered as his fingers moved lightly over the other boy's sides. He wasn't even being tickled and he was giggling like an idiot. This was... flirting. It was something he'd, honestly, never done before. It was absolutely amazing and he could get used to doing this for his entire life. Or until he left for the Army. "How d'you like that? Huh? Enjoy being tickled?" He moved to easily straddle Sherlock's shins.

_Sherlock started laughing as soon as John's fingers hit that spot on his sides, more down towards his hips than anywhere else, and squirmed around. He hadn't been tickled in years, probably at least ten. He just continued writhing under John, laughing constantly, even when John straddled his shins. No way in hell was he catching his breath. "I can't breathe," he cried, giggling now. Only a few seconds passed before he was almost squeaking; that happened when he couldn't get enough air and ended up breathing in at the same time that he was laughing, creating a noise that sounded like squeaks._

The squeaking, dear Lord. John sat back, falling on his but so he was no longer straddling Sherlock's shins, and clutched his sides as he laughed. The tickling and laughing had been nice but then Sherlock had bloody _squeaked_ and that had been the end. Enough punishment because if John found it hilarious than Sherlock might have been embarrassed. "Y-You all right?" He managed to huff out, struggling to breathe as his face turned a deep red. "Didn't mean to, y'know," he wiped at his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. "Sorry."

_Now he could breathe. Sherlock rolled to his side, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself down. He was fine by the time John was apologizing for making him, well, squeak. "It's fine," he said, his voice gruff sounding now. He looked over at John with a small smile on his face. He was upset or angry with John, it was just a part of flirting what they had done. They had gotten to know things about each other through it. He laid back against the clothes and swallowed hard. "I think I might just sleep right here tonight. You tired me out."_

Smiling. God, that felt amazing. Just having Sherlock smile at him made him excited and he wanted nothing more than to see that smile every day of his life. "I could at least be polite and move you to your bed," he whispered as he reached out and tugged at Sherlock's sock. "And then go back to my nice comfy couch. Watch some telly and then dream about you." His voice was soft, eyes roaming over Sherlock's body lazily. "You're fantastic, y'know that? Everything about you." The blush on his cheeks was strong, spreading across his bare chest and even up to the tips of his ears.

_Sherlock's eyes went down to John's hand that was tugging on his sock. He saw the blush and felt himself beginning to gently blush as well. "I didn't say I was going to sleep just yet." He made himself sit up, moving his legs around gently. "How about we sit on the couch together? I'm sure we could get to know each other better that way. We could talk for a bit before you fall asleep on my couch." He pushed his fingers through his hair again then stood up from the floor, pulling down on his sweatpants that had bunched up around him to show a bit too much of an outline of himself than what he wanted._


	6. Chapter 6

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

John let his eyes study the bit of body that had been exposed when Sherlock stood up, licking his lips without thinking about it. "Not much to know about me, is there? I'm boring," he stated as he stood up. Sitting on the couch, though. He wouldn't mind that at all. If he could have Sherlock's arm around his shoulders again than he would happily go to the couch and talk about anything. "But I like the idea and you're a fair bit warmer than I am." He reached out and gently grabbed the other boy's hand, lacing their fingers together with a squeeze. "C'mon then," he mumbled as he tugged Sherlock toward the living room.

_"If you were boring I wouldn't be talking to you still." That was the truth. All boring people were immediately ignored in his world. Sherlock was blushing now, mainly because of what he'd seen John do. Heat was just rising from his body from embarrassment and the fact that he had liked John doing that. He followed John with the tug, walking by his side as soon as he could. He sat at the couch when they reached the living room. The couch still had the blanket John had used so he pulled it around himself. "We should find some way to get to know each other better. There has to be some kind of way to." One he obviously didn't know._

John curled against Sherlock's side without even asking, pulling the blanket eagerly around himself and smiling at the sudden warmth. "I mean, I could tell you about how I grew up, why I'm like this, my family and all that," he suggested. That would be a bit boring though, wouldn't it? Sherlock wouldn't want to hear it all, he was rather sure of that. "We could ask each other questions, I guess. That always leads to a great deal of getting to know each other. If I get to stay snuggled up against you than I'm, honestly, up for anything." The smile on his lips just wouldn't leave and for a second night he moved his hand to rest on Sherlock's stomach.

_Sherlock put his arm around John again, allowing him to rest against him. "I like the idea of asking questions," he said. Tonight he allowed the hand to stay there. Perhaps he was ready for a bit more than kissing, but he wasn't very sure himself. It would have to come down to how well he and John got along tonight. He looked over at him with a small smile. "You start. I want to hear what you want before going on and seeing what I want to know." He rested against John as well, grateful for the warm blanket around their bodies._

Starting off, then. That felt like a lot of responsibility but John wanted this to work out and it was his idea after all. Only fair to start. "Where were you born?" He asked softly. A weak question, really, but definitely one that most people were curious about. It sometimes said a lot about the person. The type of family they came from, why the acted or talked the way they did. "And what do you first remember about your childhood home?" He added with a soft nod. His head rested gently against Sherlock's shoulder. All they needed was a fire to complete the cheesy movie theme.

_"I was born in Ireland. My mum decided to go on a trip when pregnant with me, she brought my brother along, and she happened to go into labor there." His father hadn't even come. Sherlock smiled slightly down at John. "I lived in the same house until I moved out last year. What I first remember is how big it was. I lived in Belgravia in a four story house. The memory I have of it is my brother trying to teach me the rooms when I was two or three." He smiled slightly at that memory. Their parents had been out and Mycroft had decided instead of sitting around doing deductions, or Sherlock trying to, they were going to learn something new. "What's your first memory?"_

John listened to everything and smiled warmly. A massive house. That must have been absolutely amazing. Room to run around, play with an older brother who didn't ignore him, from the sounds of it. It sounded like a nearly perfect childhood. "My first memory?" He whispered, repeating the question as he smiled and thought back. It was difficult to find his very first one but he was rather sure it was one of the happiest things he could remember. "My Dad holding me," he whispered with a small smile, eyes closed as he pictured it in his mind. "I think I had a nightmare and he picked me up from the couch and just held on to me. I remember opening my eyes and seeing him there, smiling and humming. That's the first thing I remember." He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. More questions. That was the point of this all, wasn't it? "Favorite game on the playground in primary school?"

_Sherlock listened with a small smile on his face. That sounded great. He wished his father had done that even once for him. That stuff had been his brother's job when they were little. By the time he had been five Mycroft had said Sherlock was too old for that childish behavior. "He sounds like a good man, your dad," he said quietly with a small smile. But his smile fell slightly at the next question. "I didn't play any games on the playground. I mainly walked around, watching everyone else play with their friends. Or I read books that caught my interest." He cleared his throat softly and adjusted how he was sitting. "When did you move to London or have you lived here your whole life with different schools?"_

"London born and raised," John said with a bit of a nod, clearly proud of that little fact. "Was in a private school until my Dad died. Mum couldn't afford it after that. Went to one primary school for a year and a half before we had to move into a smaller flat, one Mum could afford. This is my third secondary school, smallest flat we've lived in." He brushed it off with a chuckle because he couldn't do much else. "Bounced around a bit but I think this school's good. Happy to at least be graduating and all that. Family says it's a miracle I'm making it through." That was because Harry had barely made it, choosing to focus more on girls and alcohol. "Why consulting detective?"

_Didn't sound so bad. Sherlock would have loved to live in a small place, something where the family members were close. Maybe that would have made things better at home if that had been the case. He smiled at the question. "Because it's interesting. People who don't know where else to turn coming to me, needing me to help them with a problem no one else can. It's interesting, something I'd like." He smiled wider at the thought of that being his future. "It's something I've wanted to do for some time now." He moved a bit closer to John as he became more relaxed. "Who's your favorite author?"_

Leave it to Sherlock to ask about a favorite author. It was clear who the other boy liked but John had to sit and think. He read a lot in his free time and picking one specific thing seemed a bit difficult. He took a deep breath, nodded his head, and grinned. "Have you ever read Frantz Fanon?" He looked up at Sherlock curiously but continued on without a response. "This bloke, he was French, and he writes about race in society and all that. Marxism. It's... glorious. His translated works, I could sit and read them for ages." The whimsical look in his eyes was stuck for a long moment before he shrugged. "Mum had all the Maddox Ford books at the flat growing up, too. Y'know, 'Parade's End.' Those were good." He nodded and lifted his hand a bit higher on Sherlock's stomach, resting it just below his rib cage. "Favorite thing to think about while you're falling asleep?"

_He'd never heard of that author, but it did sound interesting. Sherlock had an idea of what he could give John if they made it to Christmas or John's birthday. In this it was just an "if". Anything could happen within the nine weeks, let alone all the time that John had to be away from him. He listened to the next question, feeling the hand on stomach move a bit higher. "I don't really think when I fall asleep. When I fall asleep I'm too tired to think, so I just lay down and I'm out typically once the blankets are around me." He rested his head on John's shoulder, eyes closing. "What do you want to do once you're trained by the army to be a doctor?"_

John couldn't help but smile at that. The idea of Sherlock sleeping, hitting the pillows and completely passing out, made him smile. Sherlock was damn near perfect every time he could be seen and John could just imagine what he looked like all curled up in blankets and asleep. He chuckled a bit. No counting sheep for Sherlock Holmes. He thought for a moment before taking in the reality of what his future held. "I'll still be in the Army, I know that much. Probably be a Captain. That's my hope, I guess. Lead a company, hopefully stay in London and all that." He relaxed a bit more as he felt Sherlock do the same. How much longer would they both be awake to continue asking questions? "What were you for your first Halloween?"

_Sherlock nodded his head slightly as he listened to John. A Captain, someone who commanded people. That would suit John well seeing that he was the Captain of the rugby team. He was starting to nod off as he rested against John's body. In one night he had gotten this far. John had some allure to him that he didn't quite understand. "I didn't celebrate Halloween. My brother thought it was childish," he mumbled out. He opened his eyes slightly and pulled away from John. "I should probably go to my bed before I fall asleep on you. I doubt you'd like that much since I steal blankets."_

John smiled a bit and looked at Sherlock, lifting a hand to run through the boy's messy curls. "Not much to steal, either," he added with a soft chuckle. "Go off to sleep, birthday boy," he whispered. All he had to do was wait for his connection to come through for Sherlock's second birthday present and he'd be set. All he wanted was for Sherlock's birthday to go well and for the boy to be happy. Not too much to ask for, he figured. "I'm glad you're tired, means you're going to sleep a bit. That's exactly what you need." He leaned forward and gave Sherlock a soft, quick kiss before nodding his head back toward the bedroom. "Go before I have to carry you."

_Sherlock smiled and got up, moving the blanket off of himself. "See you tomorrow. Wake me up if I'm not up and around by ten tomorrow." He leaned down and pressed a short kiss to John's forehead before walking off towards his room. Tonight he shed his clothes down to boxers after his bedroom door was closed, climbing into bed. The blankets were cold and there was nothing to warm them up besides his own heat. Part of his sleepy self wanted John there but he refrained from doing so, knowing more might happen than intended. He was finding that perhaps he wouldn't object to doing something of that nature with John. He was, after all, easy to get along with. Soon after he was warm he was fast asleep._

John flopped down on the couch, curling into his blankets with a small giggle. He couldn't help himself, really, and now was beyond excited for what tomorrow would hold. With those thoughts he fell asleep, curled against the back of the couch without a care in the world. He woke up around seven to a text, moving to answer the door with a grateful smile. He returned to the flat with new clothes and Sherlock's birthday present, all ready wrapped. After tossing the present on the couch he moved into the bathroom, changing into a fresh pair of pants, jeans, and a simple, bright blue t-shirt. Now he just had to sit and wait, he figured. He started a pot of coffee for himself, preparing his mug and sipping from it as he flipped through telly stations and lounged on the couch.

_The smell of coffee and the sound of the telly woke Sherlock up. He pushed himself up with a soft groan from his bed, not really wanting to leave what the warmth that was tangled around him. His curls were sticking up all over the place, clothes twisted around his body along with the blankets he kept on his bed. Somewhere near him was the heavily breathing Poe. She was asleep yet. He decided to follow in her example. With a cat-like stretch he then curled back up under his covers, twisting himself around further before nodding off again._

By the time it was ten John nearly felt horrible for having to go wake Sherlock up but it's what he asked for. He gently opened the door and was nearly floored by what he saw. Curls flying in every direction, a thin frame curled in blankets. John glanced around and bit his bottom lip, not wanting to wake the boy up at all. Maybe if he did it gently? He crawled slowly on to the bed, balancing on his knees before running a hand through Sherlock's hand the best he could. "Sherlock," he whispered with a smile, tilting his head a bit. "Birthday boy," he added with a now wide grin, not being able to contain himself.

_Sleep interrupted. Sherlock made a face and turned his head to bury into a pillow. He was starting to wake up again, feeling the weight of someone else on his bed and someone next to him. He barely opened his eyes so that he could see the outline of John just as he heard the man's voice calling him the birthday boy. "Hey," he said in a gravelly voice that shot his normally deep pitch a few octaves deeper. "Can I go back to sleep?" But he was already waking up. It was too late now to go back to sleep again. He pushed himself up slightly, the blankets slipping off his bare shoulders._

"I'd love to let you do that, mate, but you said to get you up at ten," John whispered as he rested his hand on Sherlock's cheek and bit the corner of his bottom lip. "It's your birthday and I've got a present for you already. Out on the couch. Coffee is made." He leaned down and place a soft kiss on the boy's forehead, lingering there for a moment before a hand moved between Sherlock's shoulder blades. "C'mon mate, up we go. I'll make it worth your while, I promise." That's when he caught a glimpse of Sherlock's collarbone and shoulder, his shirt nearly hanging off the side. The pale skin and... Jesus. John swallowed hard and tried to hide his blush.

_Sherlock was too sleepy to tell John to not do that. He didn't care very much either. He closed his eyes and sat up a bit further, pulling up his shirt so it was covering him. It was one of his brother's, one that hung off him. If John looked down the front he would see how skinny Sherlock was. But he hoped he wouldn't do that. The blankets fell off him further; instead of the sweatpants he had been wearing earlier he had changed out of them so he was just sleeping in the shirt and boxers. He raked his fingers through his dark curls and requested, "Could you get me a cup of coffee?"_

Coffee. "Yeah. No problem," John nodded as he slid from the bed, eagerly bounding from the room and into the kitchen. Sherlock took it black, right? Which means if he was sent out here to give Sherlock a bit of time to wake up and gather himself, which John was fairly sure was the case, he needed to do something else. Present. Good. He moved toward the couch and grabbed the small box, inspecting it for a moment. A small magnifying glass that opened and closed. Small enough for Sherlock to handle anywhere and keep in his pocket. He'd thought of it almost instantly. That should be good enough. He put the box under his arm, slowly poured a cup of coffee for Sherlock, and moved slowly back to the room. He even knocked on the partially opened door before poking his head in.

_Sherlock tried to get himself woken up as he waited for John. He straightened out the covers so they weren't so bunched around him anymore. They went up to just under his chin with his knees drawn to his chest. It wasn't long until John came back with a cup of coffee and the present. The box was small that he saw, something very small and probably easily breakable. Those combined things weren't very good, but he wasn't going to tell John that. "You can come in," he said, poking his arms out and looking at John with sleepy blue eyes. "I promise I'm decent under here." He did want a kiss from John this morning before he opened the present in case it was a bust._

John chuckled and slowly handed the mug over, smiling a bit as he crossed his legs and sat down in front of Sherlock. "That's good. I'd be scandalized if you weren't," he said with another soft laugh. He studied the box for a long moment before glancing up at the other boy. "So, I know we've been talking for all of two days and I've been sleeping in your living room," he cleared his throat before shifting a bit closer to Sherlock. "But it's your birthday and people deserve to have a massive celebration and all that. Attention, y'know? So here's your present." He nodded his head fractionally and lifted the box up, handing it over to the boy with a slightly shaking hand.

_Sherlock took the coffee mug from John then leaned in and kissed him once he was in front of him sitting there on the bed. He put the mug on his nightstand then looked at the box. A smile came across his face as he listened to John's explanation. The box was now extended towards him. He leaned forward and took it, opening it carefully and putting the wrapper paper beside himself. Then he opened the box. It took him all of two seconds to figure out what it was and with it came a genuine smile on his face. A magnifying glass that was small enough to keep in his pocket and fold up. He would use this always. "Thank you," he said before placing it down to put his arms around John's neck to hug him._

A kiss. The present. Then a hug. John must have died and gone to heaven. He grinned and slowly returned the hug, closing his eyes for a long moment. "Glad you like it," he whispered, laughing a bit in relief. God, he'd been so nervous. Half of him knew Sherlock would like it, though. All the talk of wanting to be a consulting detective had led John to believe that would be the perfect gift. "The kiss was rather nice, too. Stop giving out presents on your birthday, it's supposed to be the other way around," he whispered as he pulled away a bit and pressed their foreheads together. He could stay here forever, in the warmth of Sherlock's bed with the boy. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

_There was a warm and happy smile spreading across Sherlock's face. He rolled his eyes at John's comment, looking at him from their close position. "Thank you, John. And if you don't want me to kiss you then you should kiss me." He blushed from his own honest forwardness. Flirting still got to him like this. He licked his lips subconsciously before pulling away to grab his coffee and take a long drink, hoping that would allow himself to wake up. "My brother should be over around noon," he said. They had two hours to do whatever they wanted. He took another drink then set it off to the side again. "You'll have fun with him. I'm sure he knows all about you already."_

That statement was so bold that John couldn't do anything else but laugh. Sherlock wanted to be kissed and that was a far cry from where they had been Friday night. He had leaned forward to do just that, perhaps a bit more daring than what had been done previously, when the other boy brought up his brother. "Wait, wha'?" He moved back slightly and bit his bottom lip, eyes narrowed as he studied Sherlock. "Knows all about me? That's... not possible. I've never met him." It was clear he was a bit nervous now, hands wrapped tightly in the blanket that was partially covering Sherlock.

_Mycroft did seem to ruin things often. Sherlock was silent for a few moments as he heard John finish up his worried words on how the man would know him. "He's in the government. He has watches on everyone who is close to the family, including us." He shrugged his shoulders and looked carefully at John. "I'm sure that he knows that you're here from surveillance that he might have on me." He again shrugged, then stood up from his bed, fixing up his clothes. "I just come from an odd family, alright?"_

John looked up and managed a small smile, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Don't let it ruin anything. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Sherlock. "'S fine," he whispered, brushing it off and leaning forward. "Let me fix it," he added as he gently met Sherlock's lips. He let his lips move slightly, sucking at the other boy's bottom lip before he pulled away. A bit more forward than they usually were but he couldn't help himself. Sherlock had asked for a kiss and it was his birthday. All of it led to John having a bit of trouble controlling himself. "I'd rather focus on you today."

_Sherlock barely talked back, mainly because of the kiss to his lips. He took a deep breath after he pulled away from that kiss. "You can focus on me after I take a shower." He moved to his closet, toeing clothes aside that were swamping the entrance from their flirting the night before, and grabbed clothes from it to wear that day. A navy blue dress shirt with the typical black pairing of everything else. "I'll see you when I get out. And don't make breakfast because I'm not hungry for it." He'd be eating more than normal with Mrs. Hudson wanting to feed him like any mothering woman would._


	7. Chapter 7

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

John was silent while he watched Sherlock go into the bathroom. Once the door was shut he flopped on to the bed, stretching a bit before letting out a small sigh. “Don’t try to think about me too much while you shower,” he shouted with a soft laugh, clearly intent on joking around while he could. Already he was learning that there were certain things about Sherlock that made him different from other people. For all he knew, when the boy got out of the shower he could suddenly decide that he didn’t want John to hang around anymore.

_There was a simple roll of his eyes when Sherlock heard John's words. He dropped the clothes down to the ground before pulling off his clothes as well. Sherlock needed to slow himself down, not rush things between he and John. Nine weeks, they had nine weeks. It had barely been three days. Sherlock got into the shower, washing his hair and body absently. After he finished up there he got out, drying off his body and dressing. For good measure he put on some cologne that made him smell old fashioned, which he loved. He exited the bathroom, sweeping into his bedroom to get clothes._

John relaxed on the bed, slowly starting to doze off before he heard the water stop in the shower. Done. That meant... He lifted his head and studied the boy who came out, eyes half open as he tried to wake himself up a bit more. He sat up, thankful his hair had stayed flat, and slowly pulled his dog tags over his head. "Oi, Sherlock," he whispered with a small smile, sliding from the mattress and approaching the freshly showered boy. "Here. Number two," he nodded and dropped them over Sherlock's head, studying them for a long moment. "I can give you another massage, if you'd like. Later tonight, I mean."

_The dog tags were still warm against Sherlock's chest from John's body heat. He found himself smiling and fingering them, looking down at the metal and reading the number John had been given as well as his name on them. It was a nice gift. His eyes went back up to John's. "Later tonight sounds fine. I'd like that." He grasped the dog tags and put them under his shirt, adjusting it so it wouldn't look odd and the necklace wouldn't show. It would be perfect for school that way. He smiled warmly at the boy a year older than him. "Do you want me to tell you some things about my brother before he arrives so you don't get swamped by him?"_

Knowing about Sherlock's older brother would certainly give him the upper hand, wouldn't it? But that meant taking time away from just sitting with Sherlock, talking. John bit his bottom lip and shrugged. He was indifferent, really. "Sure," he muttered as he returned the warm smile. "We can do that. Or whatever you want. It's your birthday so I'm not going to force you to do anything. All about you." The statement was ended with a sure nod, his hand reaching out to gently grab the other boy's. "Can I stay here tonight, then? Give you a ride to school and all that tomorrow?"

_"You can stay here," Sherlock said, moving on from the talk about his brother for now. He started leading them from the bedroom, out to the kitchen, so he could get himself more coffee. "My brother is seven years older than me, making him about twenty-four currently. He works in the government and is getting rather far into it. He has clearance on many things, including being able to put watches on people so he can track them." He went to the pot and poured himself more of the warm liquid. "My brother looks nothing like me, except for our eyes and height. We're on bad terms currently so he's trying to get in my good graces again."_

Right. Surveillance. Tracking. John bit his bottom lip and grabbed a mug for himself, taking the rest of the coffee and eagerly mixing cream in for himself. "So he pretty much knows everything about. Or will, at least." A pause. Who was he kidding? This Mycroft bloke probably knew his damn primary school permanent record. "I mean, if I get to stay with you I guess it's worth it. Nothing to hide, really. Dad's dead, Mum works, sister's a drunk. I've not done anything wrong." He shrugged and took a long sip of coffee, studying Sherlock over the rim.

_Sherlock listened, nodding his head slightly. "It's not his life to intrude in, John. My brother doesn't have a say in whom I'm around or not." He didn't want to touch on John's alcoholic sister, feeling that wouldn't be a good subject with John wanting to make this birthday perfect, whatever that meant. He took another long drink from his mug and said, "You might want to go and help Mrs. Hudson for a bit when he arrives. We like catching up a bit before mingling with people." Though he hated his brother, they were very much alike._

Help Mrs. Hudson? John barely knew the landlady. He shifted on his feet a nodded, suddenly feeling the butterflies in his stomach. Meeting new people, all that, it never settled with him well. Sure, he was rather popular in school, but he was more content to constantly be around the same people. Unless he was drunk, which didn't look like it would be happening anytime soon. Granted, he didn't want to ruin Sherlock's birthday and drinking would certainly do that."Okay," he stated with an unsure glance toward Sherlock. "He going to interview me and all that? Ask about my intentions with you?"

_"My brother doesn't do that type of thing. The most he'll do is ask you to spy on me for money. If he does ask, say yes, then we can split the cost." Sherlock knew his brother did that as a short little interview on a person's character. He smiled a little and took another drink. "Mrs. Hudson is wonderful woman. Trust me that she is. You have nothing to worry about with her. I don't believe she's met anyone that she doesn't like." He moved past John, the air he created washing over the older man. "I'll tell you when he's arrived so you can leave then meet him later."_

Well, Sherlock was certainly a lot calmer than him. John shifted a bit on his feet, looking at the other boy and letting his shoulders relax for a moment. His posture was still military perfect, though. "I can't kiss you in front of them, can I? Would they not like that?" The relationship -- is that was it was now? -- was young and he didn't want to ruin any of it. If he accidentally pushed it too far he was fairly sure that he would regret it. "I mean, not that... I don't want to force anything on you, I just." He sighed and dropped his head. "I like kissing you."

_Sherlock turned his head so that he was looking back at John again. "I'd rather you not kiss me in front of them. Mr. Hudson, you won't meet him yet, is very against that kind of relationship. Besides, we're only three days in. I don't feel that it's appropriate kissing in front of others unless you want to make a point." The point that John was willing to put it all on the line for him. In a school setting that would be his popularity and how well liked he was by everyone; he wouldn't object to John using a kiss to show that Sherlock was his. "I like kissing you as well, John, but there can be a time and place for it to be done."_

Damn Sherlock and his wonderful points. He was a bloody genius and that made John's jaw tense slightly. "Yeah, all right," he muttered with a lopsided smile, taking a step forward and hesitantly wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist, resting his hands gently on the boy's stomach as he stood behind him. "Can I hold you for a bit, then?" He whispered with a small, nervous sigh. He felt like everything he was doing might be too much, that he might push Sherlock away, but he couldn't help it. At all. Sherlock was invading all of his senses and nearly drowning him.

_Had he upset John? Sherlock turned his head only to find that John was wrapping his arms around his waist, requesting to hold him. He kept his head turned so he was looking back at John. "Yeah, you can hold me," he said softly. Soon after he added, trying to tease him a bit, "So long as you don't try anything funny." He had a smile on his face as he looked back at him. "And short kisses are allowed. Nothing too long." Snogging right before his brother came over didn't seem too nice, especially with that being the first time doing anything. He wanted to save that for later._

John smiled a bit, pressing his nose into Sherlock's shirt with a small huff of laughter. "Thanks," he whispered, tilting his head a bit to place a soft kiss right between the boy's shoulder blades. The relationship felt like a lot of give and take, something he was willing to handle. On top of that, with Sherlock telling him what he was able to he felt more than comfortable. "Well then you'll have to turn around, won't you? Not much to kiss back here at all." He let one of his hands open as wide as possible against Sherlock's upper stomach.

_Sherlock breathed out slowly, his body relaxing a bit. He turned in John's arms once the grip was loose enough for himself to turn around in. When he looked at John there was a smile on his face. It felt automatic anymore. Even after three days he felt attached to this person who gave a damn about him. "Did you want to become my friend because you found me attractive, John," he asked, glancing down at John over his shoulder before wrapping his arms around John's neck gently to have a place to put his arms._

A rather necessary question, John figured. Why would some random bloke just come up to Sherlock like that? The boy had a reason to be curious. "It was a small factor," he whispered as he studied the boy with bright eyes and a soft smile on his face. "But you're just so fascinating. Y'know, I didn't want the rugby team to pick on you and then I saw you at lunch, saw you around the school." He exhaled shakily and stood up on his toes to give the other boy a quick kiss. "I wanted to get to know you because you just... I dunno, you captured my attention. All of you."

_Sherlock could feel himself blushing at John's words. He wasn't used to hearing compliments being handed out so freely, as if they had no weight in the world. "Even how I randomly yell at people who just bump into me? Or how I end up getting everyone who picks on me back?" There had been a couple good pranks he'd done that had gotten quite a few people in trouble, mainly pitting friend against friend rather than getting himself in the middle of it. "Those sides too?" He was curious. John was interesting as well but hadn't stood out before his jump into rescuing Sherlock from the rugby team._

"The getting people back?" John grinned like a child with a new toy, studying Sherlock intently. "That's my favorite one, I think," he assured the boy with another quick, soft kiss. "You let people think you aren't going to stand up for yourself. You don't lower your standards to those bloody idiots. You just... you wait, Sherlock. You wait and then turn around and show how amazing you are." Now all he wanted was to see Sherlock keep blushing, to see those perfect cheeks continue to grow red. "Everything about you. People can't just pick and choose which part of a person they're going to like. If I'm going to hang around with you I'm going to like all of you, even the shouting part."

_He felt like he was being examined, being watched. Sherlock's eyes were flashing over John's face as he gathered more sides of the young man in front of him that was just having fun watching him blush. And blushing he was. He felt like a schoolgirl on her first date. The ending sentence got him even more, making him blush even deeper so that it turned his whole face a pink color while his cheeks were a rosy red. Sherlock leaned down and pressed a kiss to John's lips firmly, lasting for a few moments before pulling away and almost growling, "Stop making me blush, John Watson." There was a glint of playfulness in his eyes so John wouldn't find him too serious and intimidating._

John hummed against Sherlock's lips, grinning like an idiot as the other boy spoke. Why would he even _think_ about stopping when it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen? Sherlock seemed to be completely serious and seeing the red tint to his skin sent shivers up John's spine. "I rather like making you blush, Sherlock Holmes," he whispered, head tilted slightly to the side and one eyebrow raised in his own sense of playfulness. "Do I just have to tell you how I find myself wanting to just talk to you all day? Sit on your couch and drink hot chocolate and talk about anything. It could be utterly ridiculous but if I got to talk to you I'd be all right."

_"Do you? I don't believe that you do need to tell me that. My conversations are not that interesting, especially when I get caught up in my head and ramble on and on for hours at a time." Sherlock smirked slightly; he'd done that before, mainly to Yorik the skull when there was too much jumble of threads in his head that had to be worked out aloud. "And hot chocolate? I'm surprised that you wouldn't prefer coffee. With coffee you could actually stay awake and continue talking with me, while hot chocolate simply has that short burst of sugar then you're wiped out." He was far too literal, as always. He trailed a few long fingers down John's spine to take his mind off that fact of himself._

Fingers on his spine. John bit his bottom lip as another soft shiver shot up his spine, his breath catching slightly in his throat. "Hot chocolate. Fire lit in your fireplace. Blanket. I couldn't imagine a better night with you just talking. I don't care at all if you just ramble on, talk to yourself. It'd be wonderful." He grinned and moved a hand to squeeze gently at Sherlock's side. Right now he didn't care if he was going too far, didn't care if all of his talking would ruin something, because he was just so eager to talk to the other boy. "And when we would part ways for the night, me on your couch and you in your massive bed, I would be more ready to face war than any bloke I'll be with."

_Hearing John speak like this was rather endearing. It was obvious that John was ready for a relationship, ready for what could happen or not happen between them. And finding someone who wanted that with him felt... **amazing**. But of course it had to be with someone who was going to be off to war in less than five months. That silly smile was on his face, lighting it up in ways that weren't typical for him. Sherlock leaned down to peck John's lips. John hadn't crossed any boundaries yet. "You would be ready to go to war if you had a night talking with me?" That could be arranged. If they lasted up to that point he'd let John stay the night and they could just sit and talk with the hot chocolate John kept mentioning._

"Just one," John whispered with a fractional nod of his head. The seriousness of the conversation seemed to have settled with him for a bit, his shoulders a little lowered. "One night with hot chocolate in front of your fire place and I'd be ready for anything." He moved his left hand and clenched it in the boy's shirt momentarily. "I feel like you would listen, would care about anything that I told you. You wouldn't brush it off or threaten to disown me. And I'd listen to you ramble on, take it all in and tell you every single idea is fantastic. Then I'd give you a quick little kiss and thank you for giving me the best night of my life."

_Sherlock would have listened in that situation. He would have listened to all of what John was saying, taking it in not only as information but as something he needed to remember details of, meaning he'd file it away differently in his head. He would listen to it intently and probably stay rather quiet instead of ramble on about what was in his own head. He was quiet after John's words, formulating an idea on what to say. After a few moments he leaned down and kissed John earnestly but only keeping it up for about thirty seconds, which had to be the longest held kiss that they had shared together. "I'll give you that night one day, alright?"_

John kept his eyes closed for several moments, only opening them after Sherlock spoke. A promise. A strong one, at that. "My last night here," he whispered, hating how weak his voice sounded. "I want that with you. I want to spend it with you." Forward thinking at its finest, certainly, because nine weeks down the line they might hate each other but now he couldn't care less. The thoughts and that bloody fantastic kiss had jumbled his mind. That's when he realized tears were sliding down his cheeks, silent and fast. Fuck. Damn it. Soldiers _didn't_ cry but here he was. He frantically pressed his face into Sherlock's chest as his entire body shook with a sob.

_Sherlock felt the tears on his chest, already creating a dark wet mark on his navy-blue dress shirt. He could care less about that. John was shaking and crying against him, doing everything that seemed against the young man's instincts to do. Only a few times in his life had he comforted someone, opting mainly to observe others doing it, and backed them up towards the couch. He sat them down then removed a hand so it could pull the blanket around his and John's shoulders. "Your last night here you can come over and we can spend it together," he said softly, continuing to hold John to his chest as he waited for him to calm down and become rational again. "It's alright to cry. We all do it sometimes."_

Couch. Sherlock's chest. It was all a watery blur, difficult to distinguish. But Sherlock's voice was like an anchor. Soft and comforting, speaking of promises and crying. "N-Not all right," he hiccuped out, lifting his face fractionally to focus red, tear-stained eyes on the boy's face. "Soldiers don't cry," he whispered hoarsely, a weak smile on his lips. That's what he was now, wasn't it? A soldier? They'd known each other three days and he was already a blubbering mess on Sherlock's couch, ruining his posh birthday outfit. He was a real work of art. "S-Sorry," his body shook violently as he tried to get himself under control, his breath catching each time he tried to calm himself down.

_"Don't apologize," he murmured, "The shirt will dry and you're not doing a thing wrong. It's natural to do this when under stress. Even soldiers cry." Sherlock watched John try to calm himself down. He lifted his own hands to use his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears that were staining John's cheeks. "Take a deep breath in and as you let it out close your eyes. From there breathe in and out slowly and count down from either ten or five, all the way down to one. It's a calming technique. You do that while I get you some water so you don't give yourself the hiccups." He got up from the couch and went to the kitchen, milling around so John had some few extra moments, then came back with the glass of water._

The few precious moments John had alone gave him the chance to wipe his tears away harshly, jaw set as his chest continued to heave beneath the blanket. Bloody weak, that's what he was. Crying because of a choice he'd made, one he'd actively pursued. Now he felt like he was pushing Sherlock to feel bad for him, which was far from the case. He was just... lost? That seemed like a perfect explanation for it all. Lost. He looked up at Sherlock with a watery smile, accepting the glass of water with a small hiccup and then chuckling a bit at the irony. "I'll drink it anyway," he stated softly, taking a sip before lifting his feet on to the couch and tucking them to his chest. "Ruined a bit of good conversation, didn't I?"

_Too late. Sherlock smiled a little as he sat down next to John, not close enough so he could get latched on to just yet. He was going to wait until John finished the water glass for that. "You didn't ruin anything," he said simply, eyes brushing over the sight before him. "It's an understandable reaction, one that you shouldn't be upset with yourself for having. As I said, everyone gets upset." Even the stoic Sherlock did, mainly in bursts of rage than tears. He raked his fingers through his dark curls. "Do you feel any better now?"_

John snorted into the water glass, taking several drinks from it before his shoulders moved under the blanket. "Dunno. Feel like a right git for crying on your birthday," he stated seriously, eyebrows brought together as he studied the water intently. "That won't be the last time I cry, certainly isn't the first." Which was the truth. The past two nights on Sherlock's couch he'd had horrid nightmares of getting shot, dying. Everything. He'd wake up in a cold sweat and nearly screaming. Those nights ended in tears. "Better than I was, though. Holding all that back is bloody exhausting."

_"It's fine. Nothing was ruined by your tears." Sherlock moved a bit closer to John once he saw that he had calmed himself down from that state of hysterics completely. "Then you shouldn't hold it back. If you feel that way about doing that then you shouldn't do it." Simple as that. Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder lightly before standing back up to look out the window. No one was there yet. He turned back to look at John with a small smile. "Where were we before we started discussing your last night in London? Yes, making me blush. Let's choose a different subject than that because I'm not fond of it."_

Blushing. That was a rather wonderful topic but it was clear it was making Sherlock more than a little uncomfortable. "Not fond of it? It suits you, though! The little bit of red on your cheeks, it's fantastic." He studied the boy for a long moment, not speaking and simply observing. How was it that this amazingly attractive bloke didn't have men and women falling at his feet? He could hardly keep to himself and Sherlock was letting him kiss and touch, if only a little. "We could talk about how I'm fairly sure I was your first kiss. Does that, I dunno, bug you a bit?"

_Sherlock rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall next to his window where he had gotten bored one time and decided to use some yellow spray paint to draw a smiley face. That had upset Mrs. Hudson to no end. John's words drew him back to reality with the talk of their kiss. "It was my first kiss. It doesn't bother me. I wasn't even expecting to be kissed in my whole life. The whole ordeal was a pleasant surprise for me," he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. "People typically don't like me, John, if you remember correctly. Being almost seventeen and having your first kiss comes with the territory."_

John could hardly remember his first kiss and he imagined that he was five or so and some little girl had approached him on the playground. It probably wasn't healthy that he'd viewed himself as attractive since the early days of primary school. "I like you so you best remember that," he stated with a small grin. "I like you a lot, even for the three days we've had together. Coffee, food, crying. It's all be fantastic." He flashed a toothy smile in the boy's direction and fall to his back, splaying eagerly across the couch. "I'm sad I have to leave your flat at some point, really."

_"I remember, John. I don't think I can with you living on my couch for these three days." It had been the longest time anyone had been at his flat, except for when Mycroft had been trying to help move him in. Sherlock walked to the couch, sitting on one of the arms. "You can stay as long as you want, so you know. I wouldn't object to having someone around." He rarely had anyone up here besides Mrs. Hudson, who was, after all, the true owner of the whole place. "But I'm sure you have things to do at your own flat that involve your family."_

John snorted and raised an eyebrow, marginally lifting his head to look at Sherlock. "I'm sure my family is just fine without me," he muttered lazily, his head dropping back to the couch with a soft 'thud.' If Sherlock didn't mind him hanging around for a bit then he might take advantage of that. Pay a bit of rent, even. Buy groceries and all that. It would be better than his own flat with his Mum constantly trying to get him to turn away from the Army and his sister drinking. That was something he could certainly handle. "I'll pay rent and everything while I'm here," he stated calmly, eyes locked intently on the ceiling. "Cook for you, even."

_There was no way he was going to take money from John for a rent. It felt slightly silly. "You cook and buy groceries and we're even," Sherlock said, eyes down on John warmly. "But if you want to pay rent talk it out with Mrs. Hudson. There's a room upstairs that is unused that you can rent out if you're really looking for somewhere to buy." If John was in his right mind he'd just accept the first option, buying food and then cooking it. That would be the smartest option that he could take since it was being offered. "I do like your cooking, though. I'll miss it when you finally have to leave here and tell your family that you're safe and well."_

Just buying and cooking food without renting out the room upstairs meant that he'd just be sleeping on Sherlock's couch. It was a viable option but after a while even Sherlock would get tired of having some bloke constantly sleeping in his living room. "I... so you're willing to just let me sleep on our couch, then?" The hope in his voice was probably desperate but being offered a place to stay that wasn't his own stupid flat. He decided to skillfully avoid talking about leaving or talking to his Mum. That could wait. A different conversation for a different day. "I mean, I'm keen to cook and all that so if you're absolutely serious," he shrugged and gently lifting the gray shirt his friend had dropped off earlier that morning, itching at his lower stomach lazily.

_Sherlock crossed one leg over the other, waiting for John to decide on something. When he did all he said was, "I don't mind you sleeping on my couch. I rarely use it." Unless he was in a bad mood and wanted to curl up there and not his room, which often happened. "If I hadn't been fine with you staying here and cooking for me, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. Using words just to say something is a waste of breath and air. I don't do that." His eyes went down to John's stomach and then back up to his face in under a second. After that he stood and went to the window again. This time there was a black car there out front. "You should go down with Mrs. Hudson. My brother's arrived. You can help her cook for the meal. She's making my favorite meal and dessert."_

The infamous Mycroft. Only infamous in John's head, really, because he seemed like such an authoritative figure. "Righto," he muttered, sitting up with a small groan as his muscled stretched with the movement. "One last kiss for the road, then?" He approached the other boy slowly, didn't wait for an answer, and placed a soft kiss against Sherlock's cheek. That would be enough until they were back upstairs for the night. "Don't murder anybody. 'Specially him, yeah? Government would be here right away." He snorted and slowly headed down the stairs in his shirt, jeans, and socks. Calm. This wouldn't be horrid. "Mrs. H-Hudson?" He peaked around the corner of 221A curiously.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has child abuse in it.

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_One last kiss for the road. John's words made him smile and reminded himself that it probably was going to be a difficult evening; by the end John would have quite a few more knots to work out. He watched the young man go after the kiss then settled himself on his chair, watching the entrance for his brother, waiting for the time to make the age old comment that always through his brother into a fit of rage._

_Mrs. Hudson had been humming to herself, getting quite a few things ready, when she heard a stammering voice call for her. She brushed her hands off on the apron and walked over to see a head poking in. "Oh, hello," she said brightly. "Come in, come in. Can I get you a spot of tea? I know how Sherlock rarely keeps any up there." She didn't wait for an answer and was already getting down a few things to prepare it. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, deary. John, right?"_

Creaky stairs, horrid wallpaper. This was hardly any place for a Holmes to live. Mycroft made it to the landing of 221B with a small sigh, standing in the doorway to observe what he could. Blanket and pillow on the couch, backpack strewn off to the side. A guest? Nearly impossible. Sherlock Holmes with a guest? He entered the flat slowly, turning to study his younger brother in that ridiculous chair that he had probably pulled from the garbage. "Hello, dear brother," he managed to say softly despite the fact that there was clear venom in his words.

John jumped into military stance immediately, studying the older woman curiously. Would it be rude to turn down tea if she was already getting the things together? "I, yes ma'am," he said calmly, watching her with wide eyes. "John Watson. I'm a, uh, a friend of Sherlock's. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out, arm stiff, as he smiled at her the best he could. Charming. He didn't want Sherlock's landlady to hate him if he ended up dating the boy upstairs.

_There was disgust written across Mycroft's face. Sherlock hated it when he thought that about where he lived. It was a right side better than at his parent's house, putting up with verbal and physical attacks daily. This was why he always enjoyed being able to take a shot at the man, see if he could handle all that he was capable of dishing out. "How's your diet going," he questioned, standing up from his chair with a small smile on his face. "You're looking a bit rounder so I'd guess that it's not going very well. Do sit in a chair." The chairs were Mycroft's least favorite part and he knew it._

_"Come in," she repeated as she put the kettle on the stove with the other things she was cooking up. The kitchen smelled like chicken pot pie and some kind of apples that had cinnamon and nutmeg thrown in with it. "It's lovely to meet you John. Any friend of Sherlock's is a friend of mine. Though he doesn't bring too many people over. He's a lovely boy when you get to know him but no one likes him much." She took John's hand and shook it. "Would you help me cook a bit, John?"_

Retaliating and yelling would get them nowhere, at least not this early in the conversation. Mycroft narrowed his eyes with a terse smile. "Work has been stressful recently, abroad elections you see," he stated smoothly as his eyes continued to roam the messy, small flat. Experiments abound in the kitchen but the faint smell of dinner. Chicken? So somebody _had_ been over. If Sherlock wanted to play little games than he was more than willing to participate. "Have a _guest_ over?" He asked with a tight smile, gently setting his umbrella beside the door and making a point to walk around the mess near the couch.

Lovely boy indeed, John mused to himself as he glanced around the kitchen. "I would love to, ma'am. I'm here to help." He turned and pulled the extra apron from the wall, slipping it on with ease and tying it off. "What d'you need help with, then? It already smells delicious." He grinned, ignoring the obvious jolt in his stomach from the lack of breakfast that morning. He'd been so caught up with Sherlock, honestly, to think about touching food.

_Sherlock watched his brother like a cat would stalking its prey. He settled into his chair, knowing his brother probably would see the more obvious signs that it was someone who was interested in him, probably from John's spit still on his cheek from that kiss. He didn't make a move to wipe it off. "I do actually. Someone from school. His name is John Watson. He wants to be my friend or at least an acquaintance." More like John wanted far more than that. He was glad that the outline of the dog tags didn't show under his shirt in any way. He was waiting for a rude remark on the friendship bit from the man in his living room._

_"You don't have to call me that. Call me Mrs. Hudson." The tone of her voice was about as strict as it got when speaking to people she was fond of. "I would like you to tend to peel some more apples for me John then dice them up." She was already moving towards the fridge to get some more out. "I want to make another cake so I have some leftover in case Sherlock would like one to have upstairs in the fridge." Mrs. Hudson got out the apples, setting them near a peeler._

"You? A friend?" Mycroft turned his amused gaze to his younger brother, submitting slightly to the pressure of the room and moving to the open chair across from Sherlock. That's when it all came together. That couch had been slept on two nights in a row. Obvious. But the tell-tale signs were on Sherlock himself. A bit more color in his skin, the remnants of saliva on his cheek. "I know about John Watson. Father died of a heart attack. Mother works as a waitress and," he paused and cleared his throat. Hold some back, annoy him. "And his sister is a notorious drunk. And you let him kiss your cheek?"

John blushed furiously, moving toward the few apples already out and easily starting to peel them. It was clear he was skilled in the kitchen. He glanced at the older woman with a quick smile, starting to peel the first apple. "How did you meet Sherlock, if you don't mind me asking," he said curiously. Was that too much? She refused to let him call her anything other than Mrs. Hudson so perhaps a little conversation would help. Hell, he'd get to learn more about Sherlock.

_Sherlock wasn't annoyed with the information he was getting, he was more annoyed with his brother's treatment of John. He crossed his arms over his chest, just watching the older man while he finished. "Does it matter what I do with my life? And his lips have touched more than my cheek." Let his brother think what he would about that one. "I let him kiss my cheek because he's kind to me, much more than anyone ever has been." More than even his big brother had been. Those unspoken words hung in the air as he looked at the man with sharp blue-grey eyes. "What his family is, doesn't make him that way."_

_At the topic Mrs. Hudson jumped on it as she stirred her filling for the chicken pot pie. She loved talking, especially about other people. "Sherlock has a little business he does during the summer or when he has free time for it. He solves things for people. I wanted him to follow my husband to see what he's up to. We kept in touch after he did that and when he had to leave his home he asked for me to rent him out the flat. I would have done it for free but he insisted on paying rent on it." There was a fond smile on her face as she talked about Sherlock. He was like a son to her._

Mycroft studied his fingernails for a long moment, clearly uninterested in what Sherlock had to say that would defend the young man staying in the flat with him. "More than your cheek, hmm? All you allow was the cheek and the lips?" He 'tsk'd' slightly and looked up at Sherlock. Eyes bright, slightly narrowed, with a proud smirk on his face. "It has a rather big impact on who he is, dear brother. Look at you. Removed from society simply because you couldn't handle a stern talking to from father." He sat up a little straighter in the chair.

Already working? John nodded a bit and moved on to peel the second apple, completely the task with the speed of a practiced cook. "I'm glad you took him in," he stated softly, a warm smile on his lips. "He deserves somebody like you, Mrs. Hudson. He's not done anything wrong in his life and he deserves the best, I think." He nodded and set the second apple down, starting to dice it quickly. "How much with the extra room upstairs be, Mrs. Hudson, if somebody happened to be looking for a place to bunk up for, say, nine weeks?"

_This was why he hated his brother. Sherlock stood up from his chair and went to stand by the window, looking out at the streets below him. "Yes, a 'stern talking to' that left me black and blue. Father was beating me, Mycroft. I wasn't going to allow myself to be put into place in that way like I did when we were little because you said it was how every family worked." Through listening to children at school he had soon discovered that it wasn't that way for everyone. His eyes were flashing dangerously now, knowing that age old short fuse was going to burst soon._

_Mrs. Hudson smiled a bit at him when she saw how skilled he was in the kitchen. The smell of the food had wafted down the previous night and she had /known/ it wasn't Sherlock cooking; she doubted that he really knew how to cook for himself. "The extra room for nine weeks? It would be about one hundred eighty pounds a week," she answered with a small smile. "It's rather inexpensive for a place around here. I'm assuming that you'd be sharing the other area with Sherlock then?" The teen wasn't the only one who could make educated guesses._

"Oh, this argument again," Mycroft said with a very obvious sigh and a roll of his eyes. "Sherlock, it builds character," he stated like he was lecturing a child who should have learned the information years ago. "Perhaps if you would have behaved. Listened to father and understood that your attitude was more than unnecessary. You're putting mother through so much by not seeing her." He stood up himself, chest puffed out slightly as he took a step toward his younger brother. "Every family raises children in the way they see fit. Some children just don't learn as easily as others."

John blushed furiously and kept his eyes locked on the apple he was cutting. "I--" he cleared his throat nervously and chuckled. Definitely an observant woman. "I can only make monthly payments, Mrs. Hudson. Would that be all right with you? My Army paycheck will cover all that plus the food I'm buying for me and Sherlock." He grabbed the third apple and started peeling it, finally mustering up enough courage to glance at her and smile nervously.

_Sherlock turned his head, meeting his brother's eyes with a fierce glare on his face. "It does not build character, it only brings fear of the person bringing the punishment. My attitude isn't a problem, Mycroft. You know that I've gotten quite a bit better from when I was younger. I'm sure you remember the two years I refused to talk or acknowledge people." At the mention of their mother he sighed. "I don't care if I'm hurting Mother. She checked out of my life and how Father treated me by the time I was six. I don't want to be raised in that way anymore. I'm in control of my life so stop trying to mother me."_

_"Monthly payments are just fine," she said as she added in a few more seasonings to the filling, glancing back at John before wiping her hands off on her apron. "As long as I can trust you'll pay me, which I believe I can, I'll take monthly payments." A timer went off and she knelt by the stove, obviously checking what she was making in there. From upstairs Sherlock's angry voice floated down. "You only need to cut six apples up."_

"I am simply trying to make sure that my only sibling is taking care of himself," Mycroft snapped back, clearly starting to lose his cool as well. "You just got up and left, Sherlock! I had to track you down myself and make sure you weren't killed or using drugs!" The voice was harsh, carrying through the entire building he figured. But Sherlock was infuriating and he wanted to knock some sense into his older brother. "Maybe if you talked to Mother every once and awhile she would help you. She loves you, Sherlock!"

John winced the moment he heard the raised voices, starting on the fourth and fifth apples with his head low. The sudden urge to dash upstairs and protect Sherlock capture his gut and his hand tightened around the knife he'd been using. Calm. Count backward from ten. He swallowed hard and looked at Mrs. Hudson, a serious expression settling across his features. "I'll take it," he said calmly. "I'll have my stuff moved in by the end of the week and the rent for this month to you tomorrow."

_"I don't bloody use drugs!" His voice was raised even louder now. Sherlock could only see red now that he was fighting with his brother. "I went to Scotland Yard to report the attack and then I went here, somewhere that was a hell of a lot better than that damn mansion we grew up in!" He took a step towards his brother, drawing himself up to his full height. "I don't want her help! I don't want your help! I can do this on my own. I'm more of an adult than you were at this age. What did you mainly do? Oh, yes. Go out and drink with friends while Mother and Father adored everything that you did like you were a gift!"_

_Mrs. Hudson turned to him with a smile on her face, obviously ignoring the fighting that was going on upstairs. "Great!" She went over to him with that look still on her face of complete happiness. "Will you both really be needing two bedrooms?" Curiosity was nagging at her to find if Sherlock had finally found someone to be with in that sense. He deserved someone who cared about him. "If you're going to be sleeping in the same room I can easily divvy up the rent between the two of you."_

Mycroft's hands were curled into fists at his side, eyes narrowed and forehead creased. "I can't help that I behaved that Mother and Father asked," he shouted. Out of character but Sherlock brought the worst out in him. They brought the worst out in each other. "I did what they asked, didn't run about like some right terror in a posh home!" He took a step forward, glad for the small advantage of height he had. "Stop being so bloody stubborn and let some people help you, Sherlock!" That's when his hand moved out, heading straight for Sherlock's cheek.

Oh good Lord. John felt the blush, knew how red he certainly looked because this older woman was holding absolutely nothing back. "I, er, I will," he bit his bottom lip and chewed on it, studying Mrs. Hudson with wide eyes. "Not right now, no. Not yet." There. That was a definite answer. Left it a bit open, didn't it? Because lying to her would seem very nice. "Sherlock and me, we migh--" He cleared his throat and chuckled, burying his face in his hands with a groan. "Oh, God, this is embarrassing."

_As always, he never expected to get hit, to get hurt. But it always happened. Sherlock was silent, the quiet echoing in the room, as he was knocked back from the blow to his cheek. He put a hand to the now hot skin and closed his eyes before all his anger came rushing out. It was unbridled and all very real. "Get out," he found himself screaming as he flew at his brother, striking at random. Those two words kept repeating from his mouth. They could never get along anymore. This always happened even when they tried to be polite. It ended with them both yelling and striking out against each other with whatever they felt was appropriate._

_The smile grew wider on her face despite the screaming that would make anyone tremble above them. "That's brilliant," she trilled wrapping her arms around John's body that was about her height. "You two will be wonderful together. I'm going to make you two dinner some night and we can sit around and talk." No doubt it was going to embarrassing for all but her. Mrs. Hudson was just smiling, looking oh so happy with the world as she pulled out the first apple cake from the oven so it could cool while the second was being made._

It was clear that Mycroft had underestimated the strength of his younger brother because the second time he felt Sherlock's fist, straight to his stomach, he tripped over his own feel and fell back. The 'thud' carried through the apartment as he tried to shield himself but was failing miserably. Chin. Ear. Temple. Sherlock was fast, too. Had he been going to the gym with his new-found friend?

John tensed, listening to Mrs. Hudson intently before the sound of... that was a bloody fight. Without a second thought he darted from the chicken, bounding up the stairs and sliding on his socks as he reached the landing and saw the Holmes brothers, one on the floor and the other with fists flying. "Sherlock!" He didn't hesitate as he moved forward, arms wide as he wrapped them around Sherlock and pinned his arms as efficiently as possible. "Sherlock, shhh. Shhh," he took in everything he could. Red cheek, hand print. Sherlock had been slapped. "Calm down. Backwards from ten, yeah? Like earlier."

_He had gotten the best of his brother. Sherlock struggled in the arms encasing his small frame, holding him there, like an animal. There was a chest against his back. Man's. John's. He heard the words and closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he forced himself to calm down. In the background he could hear more feet coming up the stairs and heard Mrs. Hudson say, "Oh good Lord," before hurrying back downstairs to call the police or someone else. By that time he had counted backwards from ten and was limp in John's arms, the fight out of him now that the adrenalin was gone. His eyes were hard and cold, pure and unadulterated hatred in his eyes as he looked at his brother. "You should leave, Mycroft," he said in a soft but clearly meaningful voice._

Mycroft looked up, some blood running from his nose as he narrowed his eyes. It was clear the right one would definitely be black before the end of the day. "Yes. Quite," he mumbled as he stood up. He tried to make the act look as graceful as possible but he stumbled, caught himself a bit on the armrest of the couch. "Happy birthday, Sherlock," he said softly as he turned and grabbed his umbrella. "I will tell Mother you send your regards." With that he was down the stairs, the door closing gently.

Sherlock was a bit stronger than he looked, John would give him that. The rugby workouts had certainly worked, that much was certain. "'S all right, Sherlock," he whispered as he pulled away and nervously looked around the flat. Catching up in the Holmes family didn't seem very pleasant at all. What did he do now? Comforting after a good cry was one thing but a physical fight... that seemed like a whole different animal. "I'm going to put the kettle on and make you a cuppa. D'you want to sit down?"

_The pain he had caused his brother made him feel proud. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten in a physical fight with the older man who wasn't in too good of shape anymore with that round stomach of his and sitting at a desk all day. Sherlock straightened when John let go of him, fixing his clothes up properly so they served as the best armor that he could have at the moment. "I don't want any tea," he said, his deep voice dull sounding. "I'm going to take a shower and make sure that my cheek doesn't swell up." He was already walking away from John, arms going over his chest for an attempt to keep himself together for those few short moments. This had happened in his flat that he felt safe in on his birthday. What the hell of a day. It had started great but now... now he wasn't sure. He was in his bathroom, undressing himself. The only thing he kept on was the dog tags. Once under the warm water, sitting on the ground of the tub, he fell apart into heavy tears._

It felt like every part of Sherlock he'd seen over the weekend had been stripped away with that fight. Tossed to the side in favor of... of whatever the Hell this was now. The sound of skin against the shower, sliding with the typical loud noise, and then the occasional sob that broke through the sound of the falling water, made John feel helpless. When he had been crying he'd been in the living room, Sherlock could easily comfort him. Now he was in the shower, closed off from John and clearly crying. "Sherlock," he whispered as he collapsed on the couch and looked down the hall the best he could. How could he help at all? The best solution was to wait for Sherlock to come out of the bathroom.

_Sherlock always remembered that everyone hated him, with the select few that got along with him and actually cared about him. These times were always the worst for him. He hiccuped quietly as he wiped his eyes to clear away the wetness there that he couldn't tell where tears or just the water from the shower head. It took a few more minutes until he had gathered himself up to turn off the water and get out. A towel was loosely wrapped around his waist and, as he usually did, he opened up the door a few inches so it wouldn't be so hot in there. He gave a quick wipe to the mirror so he could see his reflection before beginning to apply the ointment that would make bruises heal faster and swelling go down, leaning in close so he could get the whole area covered up while he waited to see if John would wait for him to go to him or come back to the bathroom to check on him._

The door was open so Sherlock probably just had a towel on. Going to the bathroom might invade his personally space and that would cross a line that had been made rather early in their budding relationship. But Sherlock had gotten in a fight and needed comforting. John stood slowly, exhaling shakily and moving toward the slightly opened door. "Sherlock?" He pushed the door opened a bit further and used all his self control to keep his eyes locked completely on the boy's face. "You all right?" He whispered as he pushed the door open all the way and took a step into the warm room. 

_And so he came. Sherlock turned his head to look over at John before going back to applying the ointment. It was cool against his still burning cheek. The slap had a lot of force behind it. He put down the tube and turned his head to look at John fully. At least the eyes were on his face and nothing more of his body that was revealed to John. It felt odd being around someone just wearing a towel, one that hung down low on his hips at that. "I'm okay, John. Just a bit shaken." He wiped his hand off on the towel covering his body as he turned to look at the man. His arms went over his chest again to have a bit of armor guarding himself._

Okay? After a fight like that John would be heading to the nearest gym to work out until he couldn't move. One hot shower for Sherlock and he was set, apparently. "Right. Of course." He nodded and cleared his throat, immediately averting his eyes to the boy's feet. "Didn't mean to just walk in on you. Worried and all, y'know." A sheepish smile tugged at his lips as he took a step back into the hallway. "I'll be in the living room when you're done getting dressed." Eyes down. Don't look at his body. "Okay. Good." With that he turned, moving quickly back to his makeshift bed. Maybe the news that he was moving in would brighten Sherlock's day. 

_No hug, no kiss. Sherlock would have gladly accepted those things from John. But it could wait. He was still upset but that could wait too. Once John was gone, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see a thing from the living room, he dropped the towel and began drying himself off, taking care of the dog tags he had around his neck. He dressed again in the same clothes as before and walked back out so that he was sitting next to John on the couch that still had the blanket on it. He gladly pulled it around his still warm body. From somewhere in the house Poe hopped up, curling up in his lap with a comforting purr. "How's Mrs. Hudson doing," he asked, referencing the time the two had spent together downstairs during Mycroft's brief visit._

The moment Sherlock sat down he wasted no time in leaving over and giving him a quick kiss. There. Out of his system. "A kiss to make it better," he whispered with a light blush. "There'll be more if we talk a bit and completely fix your birthday." A wry grin was suddenly on his lips before it dropped all together. Right. Mrs. Hudson. "Well, I guess I'll share the good news," he paused and scooted closer to the boy, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "I'm moving into the room upstairs. She seemed really happy about that." He smiled up at Sherlock before continuing, the red on his cheeks getting darker. "And then she asked if we really needed the second room." There. It was out. A bit of testing the waters on his part, too. 

_John's lips touching his good cheek made him feel a bit better. His fingers absently stroked the cat on his lap. Sherlock turned his head so he was looking down at John as he heard the news. It was good news. There was a small smile on his face. "Really? That sounds great." Someone living with him, even if it was for nine weeks. Then the second thing came and he felt himself beginning to blush just as deeply as John. "She would do that. So I guess she knows about our beginning relationship then." It didn't need to be answered because Sherlock knew that she did. "I should probably tell her not to call the police so they don't come around here." He started standing, Poe hissing and scampering to John's lap to settle down. "I'll be back in a second."_

The moment the cat was in his lap John tensed, looking down at the cat with wide eyes. It had never liked anybody at all according to Sherlock. He didn't dare pet it and instead watched Sherlock move down the stairs. He was honestly still in a bit of shock that Sherlock himself acknowledge the beginning of their relationship. What really made him blush was the fact that he almost told Mrs. Hudson that he would love to share a room with Sherlock. Was that him being an eighteen year old male or was Sherlock having that big of an effect on him? He bit his bottom lip and looked down at the cat. "Hello Poe," he said softly, holding his hand out flat, palm up, for the cat to sniff.

_Poe looked up at him with a look that said to be quiet. But she leaned in and sniffed the hand, hissing then laying its head back down in John's lap as if to say I don't like you, but I'll put up with you. Sherlock came back after a few minutes, looking as if he'd been mothered over with the pushed back look of his hair and resituated clothes. He sat down next to John again and within moments Poe was back on his lap. "She's not calling the police," he answered, "Just went back to cooking." This year she had outdone herself. Two cakes were far more than he was going to eat, but it was nice. He moved a bit closer to John, looking for a bit of comfort from him. He was still upset but hid it well._

John watched the cat and twisted his mouth a bit before looking up at Sherlock. Close and clearly seeking some sort of comfort. He smiled and lifted his arm, wrapping it around the boy's shoulders and pulling so he would lean into John's side. "That's good. I impressed her, I think, in the kitchen. Peeled all the apples for your second cake." The grin on his lips was proud and it was clear he didn't really want to hide it at all. "So the second cake, the one that's coming upstairs with us, was made with all of my pure amazingness." He raised a brow toward Sherlock before leaning down and gently meeting his lips, opting to not pull away.

_Sherlock found himself chuckling when he heard John just bragging away how he cut the apples. He leaned against John, Poe hissing as she was moved in a way she didn't like, with his head on his shoulder. "You did, did you? You and Mrs. Hudson cooking for me. I'm definitely going to grow to be large with you two conspiring against me," he teased, glancing up at John to see if the humor was transferred to him. One of his arms snaked around John's waist to hold the two of them there. "Want to turn on the telly? Go to Channel 42." He knew the time when one of his favorite shows, Mythbusters, came on. It was always interesting and made him want to do large experiments like they did on the show._

"Aye, aye Captain," John muttered with a laugh. The entire situation was nearly perfect. Jokes, Sherlock's arm around his waist... "You're perfect," he whispered as the telly turned on and he turned it the desired channel. "You are, all right? And if Mrs. Hudson and I make you gain a few pounds, that'll be perfect, too." All out now, slipped from his mouth so fast that he didn't really have time to think about it at all. He licked his lips and looked down at Sherlock, smiling nervously and clearly his throat. "I'm gonna hush up now. Watch Mythbusters and please forget all of that."

_John really couldn't keep things in his head, could he? Sherlock glanced up at him after John had said he would still be perfect if he gained a few pounds. But he had called him **perfect**. He met John's eyes, ignoring the telly for now, and leaned up to press their lips together in a sign of a quiet thank you. He pulled away next and placed his head on John's shoulder as he watched the show unfold, seeing that it was a pirate special. He smiled to himself; he loved pirates. Today wasn't such a bust after all, just a rough patch that was being fixed over now._

If Sherlock wanted to kiss him every day, even if they were quick and simple, John was fairly sure he would find motivation to do anything. Maybe even all his homework. While Sherlock focused on the telly, he focused intently on the boy resting against him. The curly mop of hair was endearing and nearly touching his nose when he turned his head. His soft breathing was rhythmic enough to calm John down to the point of a lazy yawn. This was certainly a perfect Sunday afternoon and he was fairly sure the incidents earlier in the day were long forgotten. The smell of apple cake from below surrounded them, made the flat feel warm and welcoming. _His_ flat. _Their_ home.

_Sherlock settled in and watched the show without interrupting once in any way. He could sit in front of the telly watching that single show and not get bored or find what they were doing in that episode dull. When it was over and another came on he finally had to pull away. It was Sunday and he needed to do his homework. The only homework he didn't do was Astronomy. He was failing that class. Unthinkingly he pressed his lips to John's neck then shoulder before getting up from the couch and walking towards his bedroom. He came back with his bag and sat on the couch next to John, pulling out the homework he needed to do, such as Trigonometry and Advanced Chemistry._

John sat on the couch for a second completely frozen. It had been so natural that Sherlock clearly didn't think twice about it. He was sitting there with his homework now, focused on something completely different. Yet here he was, thoughts fixated on the fact that Sherlock's lips had been on his neck, then his shoulder, and the boy had just walked off. Normal. Wonderful. John twisted and grabbed his bag, pulling out his English notebook and flipping it open. How was he going to focus on writing a bloody poem if Sherlock was next to him and all he could think about was how he wanted those lips back on his neck? "I liked that," he whispered as he scribbled something down on the paper.

_Sherlock began working on the math for a challenge since he knew everything about Chemistry that he could. The noise from the telly became background to his mind working like a machine, the wheels turning rapidly as he fired out math on to the paper at a lightning speed. It only stopped when John spoke. Had liked what? He rewound then remembered the kiss to his neck, the one that had just... happened. He blushed a light pink as he looked at the paper in front of him, the pencil he was using twitching slightly as he moved it so he had something active going. "I'll remember that," he replied, glancing over at John. He was smiling softly at him. "When are you going to move into the spare room?" He began working again, moving not as fast as before._

"This week," John replied as he kept his eyes on his paper, more lines getting filled. Writing poetry to the sound of Sherlock's voice was doable and he rather enjoyed it. "If that's all right, I mean. I know it's all a bit sudden, we'll be sharing the same living space, but I couldn't help myself." He shrugged and looked up from his notebook, the page half full of verses and some scratched out words. "I feel more at home here than the other flat and I like the idea of making you blush everyday." That comment was just to see more pink, to watch it spread over the boy's face in the most wonderful way. "I can't picture any place better than this for my last nine weeks in London."

_Dammit, why did John have to do that? Sherlock was blushing yet again. His head moved down so his cheeks were more hidden by his hunched over shoulders. "At least you won't be sleeping on my couch anymore," he teased. He felt his cheeks going back to his normal pale color and felt fine to look over at John. "After eating with Mrs. Hudson and you giving me my massage, I still want that so you know, what do you want to do? And don't say that it's up to me since it's my birthday, because if you say that I'll spend the whole night reading a book and completely spacing out anyone around me." He wrote down a few more numbers, calculating the bulk of it in his head, while waiting for John's answer._

Making a decision like that seemed like a bit more responsibility than he was ready for. Dictating what they were going to do? If it were up to him they would snog against a wall, move to the couch and snog some more, and then fall asleep wrapped against each other under a blanket. "Uh, I don't know really," he muttered as he turned away from the boy for a moment. He was a bloody genius and could probably figure out what John was actually thinking. That made him a bit nervous. "Ever seen James Bond?" He lifted his head curiously at the question and couldn't help but smile.

_Sherlock made a face at the mention of James Bond, his nose wrinkling. "Yes. All that was going on was completely improbable, even in the setting that they were going for, so I decided to break the DVD." That had gotten him in a lot of trouble since it had been Father's favorite. "So, I'm not a huge fan." He began writing on the paper quickly again, just finishing up a difficult math problem very quickly. "I can tell you have something else on your mind that has to do with me, John. Your eyes dilated right before you started talking about James Bond and how you didn't know what you wanted to have us do for the evening. So tell."_

Damn it. John swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip, exhaling slowly. Sherlock had asked, right? And it wasn't like he was saying that's exactly what he wanted to do. He was just thinking it. "I wanted to snog you," he muttered with a ferocious blush that spread to the tips of his ears. "Snog you and then fall asleep with you, my head on your chest and all that." There. How he'd managed to get through it was beyond him but he'd said it to Sherlock and made it through. "Wake up for school like that. It would certainly make my day a bit better."

_Oh. Soon his blush was mirroring John's in the intensity of it, but it crept down his cheeks and to his neck rather than, well, everywhere like John's. But now Sherlock knew he had to say something, figure out what he could say to that. It wasn't sex yet it could turn into it if it got too hot and heavy between them. He breathed slowly a few times, tapping his pencil against the paper, and asked, "How far does snogging go?" The level of trust he held for John was high, much higher than he held for most other people, and he was giving him a bit more to toy with. This was a make it or break it point._

In each of his experiences the snogging always had the underlying, and drunk, expectation of a shag. That wasn't always the point though. Snogging could be simple kisses, cuddling. "Snogging goes as far as each party wants it to go," John finally said, attention completely off of the notebook in his lap and looked curiously on the boy next to him. "For me and you? It would be just kissing, Sherlock. And I'm not saying we have to. My little thoughts are just that: thoughts. I'm not going to force you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with." He licked his lips and shifted on the couch with a small, nervous cough. "But if I got the chance to snog you it wouldn't expect anything else. Just slow, long kisses and a bit of snuggling."

_His eyes stayed on the paper with the mass of numbers while he felt John's eyes on his body. Sherlock wasn't wanting to make eye contact just yet but save it for when it felt appropriate. Long kisses and snuggling. He could do that, right? Perhaps. He looked at John finally, just through his lashes so he could see his outline. "Maybe. Let's see how the rest of this evening goes," he said before looking down to the paper again, putting a few more quick numbers on the page. "I want to wait a bit to get to know you better before going and doing that." Again he glanced up, this time fully. He smiled a little and put down the pencil so he wouldn't toy around with it for lack of things to do with his hands._

John nodded, smiling widely and slipping his notebook into his book bag. Waiting wouldn't be a problem for him at all. A new experience, definitely, but he just felt like Sherlock would be more than worth it. If he didn't get to snog the boy before he left for the Army then that would be fine, he wouldn't be upset. "I'm perfectly okay with that," he whispered as he leaned back and stretched, relaxing when he was done. He was content to lay back and study Sherlock, watch him do homework and think, find little things he did. Did he bite his lip while he was thinking? Have little creases in his forehead when slightly puzzled? "Do your homework, star student," he whispered with a smile and a laugh.

_"I'm not a star student." Sherlock was failing a couple of classes if he remembered right, but it didn't matter. He sat back on the couch and went to doing the math. He had a bright look in his eyes when he figured something out by himself, propping his head up with a hand that threaded through his dark curls with the elbow on his knee. When working he chewed on the inside of his cheek along a scar line that was there from the years of biting the inside of his cheek in general. He finished up on the math then pulled out his other homework that had to deal with reading a section of the book._

All of it was endearing and John couldn't help but catalog it all away for future reference. The light in Sherlock's eyes made him smile like an idiot and the occasional chewing on the inside of his cheek was bloody adorable. At this point he managed to keep his mouth shut and focused instead on Sherlock's smooth handwriting, how well the words worked over the page. After several silent minutes passed he leaned down and gave the boy a quick kiss, sucking a bit at Sherlock's bottom lip as he pulled away. "You shouldn't be doing homework on your birthday," he declared softly.

_Sherlock's handwriting was a mix of cursive and print. His s's were done in cursive, same with the way he connected his e's and i's with things. Most everything else was print with the occasional cursive f thrown in. His eyes widened considerably as his thoughts were pulled from The Great Gatsby to lips against his, sucking on a chapped bottom one. His eyes were still wide when he turned his head to look at John when that short kiss was over. "I don't have a choice on homework," he said, voice breathy. He could feel himself flushing gently so he turned away so that he could pull out the Astronomy worksheet they had been given and tear it up so he could claim he hadn't gotten one as he always did._

John had opened his mouth to argue with that statement and froze the moment Sherlock started tearing up a sheet. "Oi, that was Astronomy," he muttered as he studied the little bits of the worksheet. His mouth twisted a bit to the side and he cleared his throat. Right. There was more than likely some method to that whole operation that he had yet to understand. Unless Sherlock just planned on not doing that specific piece of homework. The flushed face and breathy voice didn't go unnoticed and he stood up, glancing into the kitchen before looking down the stairs. "Why don't we go downstairs and eat a bit of your cake?" He offered his hand to the boy and motioned his head toward the doorway.

_Astronomy was one of the classes Sherlock was failing. He usually skipped the class and when he did go he tended to get into a row with the teacher, ending with him in detention for a few days. Sherlock fingered the pages of the worn book that was sitting on top of a piece of paper containing observations over the 1920s novel. "Cake would be nice." He also intended on some chicken pot pie as well. Tonight he'd probably end up eating too much and laze around mostly. He moved his things to the side and took John's hand to pull himself up from the comfortable couch. "Mrs. Hudson will let us eat up here." He wanted to watch more of Mythbusters since he was going to not be working on homework while food was in front of him._

Eat up here? John pulled Sherlock a bit closer with a confused look. "Let's eat with her," he muttered as he wrapped his arms around the boy's narrow waist. Probably a bit forward but the kiss had left him desiring a bit more than just a quick meeting of lips. "She made all that food, I don't want to just leave her down there alone and all that, y'know? We could have a good bit of conversation with her, I would think." He lifted his gaze a bit to meet Sherlock's, his blue eyes wide and bright. He liked that Sherlock was taller than him, had to lean down a bit to kiss him. It was far different from being with a girl.

_Sherlock liked eating alone. He liked being alone in general. He met John's eyes with the arms around his waist, drawing him closer to the older teen. He was finding that it seemed a norm to eat with someone who had made the food rather than scurry off somewhere else to do eat alone. He'd have to practice that more often. "Alright, we can eat with her," he simply said, starting to walk towards the stairs so John's arms fell from his waist. None of what he was doing was meant to be specifically rude. He was just doing what felt right to him, what he was used to in a routine._

As Sherlock pulled away John could do nothing more than stand and smile, watching the younger boy with curiosity. It was clear he was far from versed in little things like touching, holding people. That much was to be expected when he'd not even had a first kiss. "Right," he stated with a small nod as he moved after Sherlock and followed him down the stairs. No need to talk about it in front of Mrs. Hudson, even if she was already convinced that they needed to sleep in the same room. They might not hear the end of it if John mentioned that he would have liked Sherlock to returned the soft embrace they'd been share. "You don't do small talk, d'you?" He finally asked as they reached the end of the stairs.

_A frown twisted across Sherlock's face to form a slightly funny expression. It was caused by the question that John asked. "No, not really," he answered. "It's a bit unneeded." Why use small talk when you had the option of simply talking about things of substance? Those things weren't understandable to him, so he tended not to practice those things. He walked into Mrs. Hudson's area to find her finishing up with the second cake that was meant to go upstairs with them. She was smiling and moved to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as usual to hug him while greeting him with the simplicity of his name._


	9. Chapter 9

John followed after him, standing behind Sherlock awkwardly for a moment while he was getting hugged. This whole friendship-- possible more than friendship-- was definitely going to be a bit tough. Couples always had small talk, whispered and giggle like idiots. Sherlock clearly didn't do that and he didn't want to be the person to force him to do things. That would be rude, not understanding. That's not what couples did at all. "Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Hudson," he said softly with a small nod as he sat down at the kitchen table. The plates were already prepared and he waited patiently for the two of them to sit.

_Sherlock let go of Mrs. Hudson first, the hug only lasting a few seconds as usual, and she pulled away with a fond pat to his cheek. "Oh, it's no problem John," she said warmly, looking over at him as she got down some plates to put the main course on. "It's good knowing that everyone's eating well." That was a pointed remark for Sherlock; she didn't like how much he ate out rather cook or get someone to cook for him. "It looks good as always," Sherlock honestly said. She set the plates down at the table. "Would you boys like something to drink?"_

John looked up at her, eyes wide. Was she honestly going to make the food and then get them something to drink. "Sit down, Mrs. Hudson, I'll get the drinks," he stated with a warm smile, pushing his chair back and placing a hand on her shoulder. He moved with ease, placing the kettle on the stove and getting three mugs ready. Tea was always a good drink at dinner and he was not going to make Mrs. Hudson do everything. He waited for the water to get warm, prepared the three mugs, and carried the sugar and cream to the table. "There we go," he muttered with a warm smile before sitting down himself and pouring just cream into his tea before taking a large bite of the chicken pot pie from his plate.

_Tea wasn't Sherlock's favorite thing to drink; it tasted like hot water and the paper packaging it was kept in, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He didn't touch or mess with his cup as he pushed around his food for a few moments before taking a bite as well. And, as he had guessed, the food was perfect, just how he liked it when Mrs. Hudson prepared it. He could eat this everyday if he could because of how much he favored it above other foods he ate. The bites were more steady since this was his favorite meal, but he did push it around a bit for lack of something better to do. "John, what was it that we were talking about earlier before you ran upstairs to see Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said as she took small bites, chewing them up completely. She knew about the fight but found it better not to talk directly about it._

That nearly made John choke on the bite in his mouth, eyes wide as he looked up at the older woman. What had they been talking about? "I, the moving in?" He stated the moment he managed to swallow the food in his mouth. "I told Sherlock," he added hastily as his foot moved under the table and gently nudged the other boy's. "He agreed on the, um, the separate rooms and all that." He nodded and gently set his fork down, having inhaled half of his meal in record time. "But the shared living space, we're both rather excited about that. I'm ready to have a bigger kitchen so I can cook a bit more."

_Sherlock had been paying attention to his food and almost jumped when John's foot hit his shin from under the table. It wasn't a kick but a gentle nudge so that he would pay attention to what was going on now. He gathered quickly that Mrs. Hudson had brought up the subject of them moving in together. His mouth didn't open while he observed, food forgotten from the distraction. "You can move in when you want. There's a bedroom and a bathroom upstairs," the woman said with a sweet smile on her face. "If you move in later in the week, perhaps the weekend, Mr. Hudson can help you. He should be home by then." Sherlock didn't like her husband. "Where did he go this time," he asked. "Florida." That was the usual place he went in America._

Hadn't Sherlock mentioned disliking Mr. Hudson at some point? John shifted slightly in his seat and nodded, politely folding his hands in his lap. "I imagine I will have some free time this week. I've got rugby practice most of the week after school but I'll squeeze some time in." It was obvious the attention to his homework over the week would suffer in favor of moving but he was more than willing to move out and start something new in his life. "I'm sure I'll manage just fine, though, Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure you'd rather spend some time with your husband." The smile on his lips was a bit tight as he looked down at his plate and took slow, measured breaths.

_Mrs. Hudson nodded her head at the mention of being around her husband, which was something she'd rather not do. But she wasn't going to let that on to a bunch of teenagers. "Yes, I really would. He's been gone so often this month." Sherlock looked back down at his plate, beginning to eat again. This was one of those rare moments that he cleaned his plate, eating every little bit so that there was barely a trace of the food there. His fork went on his plate and hands in his lap neatly. "You can take the rest upstairs," Mrs. Hudson said, smiling happily; she was always afraid he was eating too little. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he replied._

John tilted his head up for a moment and studied Sherlock. A completely empty plate. He didn't believe it in the slightest and smiled like an idiot. Was it stupid to be proud of a teenager for finishing his meal? To Hell with it, he wanted to embrace Sherlock and laugh, spin around the room. All over a completely eaten meal. "That'd be fantastic, really. I could eat this every day, ma'am," he stated with a chuckle. He had a feeling he might start to gain a bit of weight after moving in if Mrs. Hudson cooked for them every once in a while. It was definitely breaking his diet. "Want me to go and get some cake, then?"

_Why was John smiling at him? Was there something on his face? Or was it something that John was just thinking? What about the comment on him being able to eat like this daily. Whatever the reason, Sherlock found it a bit odd. He looked over to Mrs. Hudson and stood, politely grabbing the plates to put them in the sink so they could soak before the dishes had to be done. That was probably against one of John's mad birthday rules, but what did he care? "Yes, cake would be great," the older woman replied. "Plates are in the top cupboard." Since Sherlock was over there he grabbed the smaller plates that would be perfect for the cake but didn't get any of the cake cut. He would let John do that._

John chuckled as he managed to find a knife, starting to cut the cake with ease. "What, think I was too short to reach the top cupboard?" He whispered as he glanced at Sherlock for a moment. The grin on his face didn't want to go away now and it was getting worse every time he looked at the other boy. "Thanks, though." He grabbed the plates and put a piece of cake on each, carrying one to Mrs. Hudson before handing Sherlock his own plate. "Should we sing you happy birthday, then? Put a candle in yours so you can make a wish?" He was half-joking, really, his smile wide and ridiculously playful.

_"You are short," Sherlock replied honestly. "A bit below the average height but not very much." Everyone was shorter than him, though. He took his plate when handed it and went back to sitting down. Mrs. Hudson was laughing to herself at the thought of singing Sherlock happy birthday as he grimaced and answered with a forceful, "No. Don't do those things." He didn't like being sung to particularly and a candle getting wax on his cake wasn't appealing to him. He picked up his fork again and took a bite. It tasted just as amazing as the chicken pot pie, something that definitely would go well with coffee and a cigarette in the morning._

That settled it then, didn't? No singing or a candle. Sherlock was a rather straight-forward bloke. John sat next to him and took a bite as well, letting out a soft groan of happiness as his head fell back. "Mrs. Hudson, this is amazing," he said as he swallowed his first bite and eagerly dug in, taking several bites in quick succession. Everything was bloody perfect and, most definitely, he was going to break his diet every time the woman even offered to cook. He watched Sherlock out of the corner of his eyes, shifting in his seat before sitting up straight. "Happy birthday, then, Sherlock." He nodded and turned to look at the other boy with a soft, genuine smile.

_John was very vocal when expressing delight in something, Sherlock found. He continued eating silently, watching him every few moments. "You're too kind, John," Mrs. Hudson said with a beam. "I'll give you the recipes if you want. They're not very hard to make." She ate her piece quickly as well while Sherlock took slow bites, as if measuring and calculating each piece that was put into his mouth. "Thank you, John," he replied, looking back at John with a smile of his own. Mrs. Hudson was smiling wider--if possible--and said, "You two upstairs. I'll bring the second cake up once it cools along with the rest of the chicken pot pie. I can manage these dishes myself. Shoo you two." Sherlock didn't need telling twice; once finished he stood and kissed Mrs. Hudson's cheek, thanking her, then going towards the door that would lead to the stairs._

John stood up slowly, smiling at Mrs. Hudson before following after Sherlock. He bit his bottom lip and brushed by the taller boy, walking backward for a moment before starting up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson had certainly noticed something, he'd seen her impossibly large smile, and he was a bit sheepish about the whole thing. Were they that obvious in front of other people now? And what would happen once they returned to school tomorrow? The weekend had been spent in bliss, locked away from the most part in the safety of the flat. School was a brand new atmosphere. "Mythbusters, then?" He flipped on the telly, wrapped part of the blanket around his shoulders as he collapsed on the couch, and held the other half out expectantly.

_Sherlock entered his flat after John, closing the connecting door behind him so Mrs. Hudson would have to knock first. He got on the couch as well, smiling softly as he got under the blanket as well. It was comfortable between them. An episode was near the end and Sherlock quickly decided he wasn't going to read the section of The Great Gatsby since he'd read it before. He moved to rest more against John's side, resting his head on the teen's shoulder. The new episode started, one that Sherlock had seen many times before, and he turned his head towards John, deciding to be impulsive. "I want to snog," he requested quietly._

Sitting around and watching had telly had seemed like a rather nice idea, doing nothing more than relaxing... but then Sherlock spoke. John turned his head slowly, looking at the boy with a slight twist of his mouth. "You do?" He smiled a bit and swallowed hard, the hand resting on Sherlock's shoulder rubbing it a bit. "I'm glad you've decided that," a pause as he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the boy's forehead. "Are you sure? I don't want to rush or force you into anything that you're uncomfortable with. We can sit just like this, not move or put you in any position you will dislike." He bit his bottom lip and let out a shaky breath.

_Didn't John want to kiss him? He'd told him that earlier. Or had that changed? Sherlock was looking at John, desperately trying to piece things together. It was obvious in his eyes that he didn't want to mess this up, just like John. "I'll tell you if I don't like something or if I want to stop. I want to do this like everyone else does." He wanted to be treated normal by John, as if he wasn't a beginner and knew what he was doing. He was a fast learner with things that interested him, and he was sure that this would be one of those things. "I want to snog you," he repeated, taking John's hand under the blanket. "I want to try my hand at snogging and I will say something if it goes too far."_

He'd given Sherlock a chance to back out and he hadn't taken it. John squeezed the boy's hand and couldn't help but grin. "All right," he whispered. The blush on his face was strong but he couldn't hide it. The excitement rushing through his body was at an all time high. No going back now. He leaned forward and gently met Sherlock's lips, sucking a bit at the boy's lower lip before hesitantly moving his tongue forward. It ran across the seam of Sherlock's mouth, testing to see how the teen next to him would react. His lips moved slowly, sighing against Sherlock's lips as his arm tightened around his shoulders.

_Before they began Sherlock took off his suit-jacket, tossing it towards his chair so that his chest was only covered by the long sleeved navy blue dress shirt. Then their lips met. John's were soft against his, in pressure and in feel. The warmth of his mouth around his lip was heavenly. He caught on quickly to the kiss, moving a bit closer to John as John's arms tightened around his shoulders. Slowly his mouth opened just enough to allow John entrance if he really wanted it. But before he could do that he pulled away to say, probably killing the subject, "I want this to progress naturally to see where it takes us. Don't hold back."_

Open mouth. John moved forward eagerly but suddenly Sherlock was talking, looking at him. "Okay. It's fine," he whispered, a soft smile on his face. The other boy was probably just a little nervous, which was understandable. "It's all fine," he added as he bent forward and gently took Sherlock's lips with his own. Slow. He wasn't going to rush it and he could make slow feel natural. Anything else and he might have the other teen pinned to the couch and taking more than was offered. He didn't wait for Sherlock to open his mouth and instead slid his tongue in, running it across the roof of the boy's mouth with ease.

_It was all fine. Sherlock was kissing John again, tasting him as soon as the tongue was in his mouth. There was the taste of their dinner in his mouth but also just a spark of something more, something that he could describe only as John. He wrapped an arm around his waist as he found a way to move his lips against John's that felt to work out for the both of them. His tongue ran over the underside of John's, feeling the silkiness of it that sent shivers down his own spine, making his spine straighten out before going back to a bent position that made it easy to reach John's lips._

It literally only took Sherlock thirty seconds to suddenly be amazing at snogging. John moaned softly into his mouth, exhaling hot air through his nose and pressed his mouth against the other boy's more. He'd moved his tongue, had an arm around his waist. There was no way in Hell he could slow any of this down. Natural progression it was. He shifted and pulled his tongue back slight, playfully sucking at the tip of Sherlock's before he nipped at the boy's bottom lip. Pulling away and running kisses down Sherlock's neck seemed like the most logical next step but that seemed too far, that was more than snogging, so he opted to run his tongue lazily over the boy's bottom teeth.

_Sherlock felt John's moan vibrate into his mouth. Another shiver went down his spine. He was far more attracted to John than he had anticipated after barely a minute. He eagerly responded to John's playing with his tongue and lip with a short noise that wasn't anything he could remember making in his life. It caused a blush to come across his cheeks. He slid his tongue over John's and into his mouth, not really knowing what to do with it now that it was there. So he moved it around, experimenting with it. He wanted John to do what would come next, what happened in this realm. He could handle it. John just had to make that first move towards it._

That noise. John felt like he'd just melted into a puddle. Knees weak, wanting to do anything to make Sherlock do that again. He sucked at the boy's tongue before gently pulling away from the kiss. Progression. Sherlock wanted it to happen like it normally would and, damn it, that's what he was going to get. He took a deep breath, met Sherlock's gaze for a long moment, before moving his mouth to the boy's neck and sucking gently at his pulse point. Probably too much but Sherlock's neck was so pale, so perfect to suck and kiss at. He moaned against Sherlock's skin and pressed their chests together, pushing back so he would lay down.

_That noise came from his lips again when John sucked on his now sensitive tongue. He felt slightly tingly from those odd sensations. Sherlock looked back at John, almost questioning with his eyes why he had pulled away, then those blue orbs widened as John's lips found his neck, sucking over his skin. The pale skin always bruised easily so he knew he would have marks there tomorrow that would stay for a few days. He felt waves of some indistinguishable feeling roll through him and he scrambled to grasp John as he laid down on the couch. A moan of his own left his lips. Oh, God he wanted more. His thoughts were jumbled with the simplicity of lips sucking on his neck that seemed to be more sensitive than he would have first believed._

That moan made John hiss, moving to a new spot on Sherlock's neck and eagerly sucking on it. Sometimes his teeth with nip at the skin, his tongue moving in quickly to soothe it. He shifted and easily situated himself on top of the other boy, resting between his legs. Leaving a genius a bit speechless was something John would pride himself on for the rest of his life. Sherlock was beneath and nothing more than a mass of tense nerves and excitement. "You're all right," he whispered against the second bruise on Sherlock's neck, moving to press his nose against the boy's ear as he struggled to catch his breath. "Good," he muttered before shifted and attaching his mouth to the other side of Sherlock's neck and starting to mark it.

_Out of instinct Sherlock's legs lifted, bending at the knee so they were on John's hips as he settled on top of him, biting and kissing his neck in a new area. He knew he was going to have multiple bruises now that John had found a seemingly weak spot. His eyes were wide as he heard John's words telling him that he was okay. He trusted it completely. John began bruising the other side of his neck in that way that made him moan and, now, squirm, turning his head to give more access. His body rubbed against John's with each movement he made. From all the attention directed towards that one sensitive place he found that an embarrassing problem was popping up, one that he was sure John would notice as he began blushing like never before._

Oh. _Oh._ John gasped and pressed his hips down against Sherlock without a second thought. No use hiding his growing problem either. The boy beneath him was wriggling and moaning, maybe begging for more. What did he do now? Did he get Sherlock off? Nice hand job? He nipped at the skin beneath his mouth and moved a hand up to tangle in Sherlock's hair, giving it a soft tug. Now it didn't make any sense at all as to why they weren't kissing. He lifted his head, took a deep breath, and roughly met Sherlock's lips. His hips rolled against the boy again, his free hand clutching at the couch cushion above Sherlock's shoulder as he moaned.

_**Fuck**. That was the only rational thing Sherlock could think, and he might have even said it, when John's hips pressed into his. He could feel John pressing into his hip. The fabric rubbing against him was almost too much, along with the added pressure John gave on top of him. He met the kiss spot on, matching it in the roughness. Again their hips rolled together and Sherlock didn't know how much he could handle of even that. This was natural progression for them; they were already close to some kind of sexual act. He pulled his lips away so he could try to catch his breath even though the bulge was still annoying as it grew to its full size._

John had been about to moved his hand slowly down Sherlock's chest when he pulled away. Calm. Jesus, he needed to stay calm because he was practically shagging Sherlock with their clothes on. He'd promised no shagging, said he would wait for whatever Sherlock wanted. This was definitely not just snogging anymore. "I... God, I'm sorry," he whispered, swallowing hard but not bothering to move. If he did he would moan, his erection would become more than obvious. So would Sherlock's. "I didn't-- This... it's," he blushed furiously and met the younger boy's gaze. "Are you all right?"

_It was a bit too late to go back now, to apologize. Sherlock's eyes were wider and fully dilated as he looked up at John who was trying to say that he was sorry. "I'm okay," he replied, trying to ignore how his voice had shot down a few tones from what was sitting between his legs. He was glad that John didn't pull away from him and sit up because the last thing that he wanted was for John to see the tent in his pants. He moved a little under John so he was propping himself up on his forearms. The only question he had, was what did they do now. "We need to do something about this. We can't just sit here like this and wait until they go down."_

John wasn't completely sure if that was Sherlock giving him the green like to rut against him like an animal or not. In reality he would have done it, too. Captured Sherlock's lips, heatedly pressed his hips against Sherlock's, and slammed him into the couch cushions until they were shouting each other's names. "D'you want me to help?" He finally asked breathlessly, his own eyes still a bit wide that he'd even gone that far. "I can, y'know," his hips moved marginally and he moaned, eyes slammed shut and head hanging. God, that felt amazing.

_Mrs. Hudson had to hear them. He was far too overstimulated and just needed something to hold onto or rock against. This was the perfect time to do so. More than anything in his mind was the want to get off. He'd never done anything like this before, not even with himself. Seemed a weekend of firsts for him. "Yes," he softly said, "You can help do this." Not that he had any idea on how to do this in the first place. He wanted John to do this, oddly enough, even if it could be categorized as being far too early in a relationship that was far from this point._

That's all John needed to hear. He gently met Sherlock's lips and rocked his hips forward, slow and calculated, so they would both feel it. The moan into the boy's mouth was definitely loud but, Jesus, he hadn't gotten off in at least a month and Sherlock was so bloody responsive to everything. "Good. You're so good," he whispered against the teen's lips, grunting slightly as he kept a continual rhythm with his hips, pressing them down against Sherlock with more force each time. The couch, old as it seemed to be, did give a slight squeak here and there that definitely tipped off to what activity was going on.

_The pleasure was going more intense as each movement of John's hips got to him. He understood the mechanics of what they were doing, but the feelings behind it were much more intense that he could have imagined. Sherlock was grasping tightly to John's shirt as he found the rhythm behind John's hips, rolling his own up against his. He knew that the woman below could hear them and knew exactly what they were doing together. Her suspicions had to be confirmed now. Their lips continued to move together, both seeming not to care that someone might find out, and Sherlock let a few noises slip out as he waited to see what would happen when he actually reached that thing called a climax._

Each little noise and desperate grasp on his shirt pushed John closer to the edge. At this rate he was going to finish before Sherlock but he didn't care because it was all just so wonderful. The boy beneath him wasn't missing a beat and moving like he'd done this multiple times. No fear, just noises and movement, hands that were desperate for something to hold. "S-Sherlo--" His voice caught and his entire body tensed, pressing into Sherlock as he reached his climax. Hard and fast and _Jesus_ he hadn't even taken any clothes off. He whimpered as he continued to move his hips, faster and lighter than before, and gently lowered his lips to suck at the boy's neck. If Sherlock was going to scream then everybody was going to hear it.

_Shit. Shit. He could feel John reaching that climax above him, tensing and saying part of his name, before picking up that pace again to finish them both off. Sherlock's back arched under John, their whole bodies pushed together, with the lips sucking on his neck. He was going to keep quiet. The chain reactions in his body began to occur, letting him know that this was it, and then it happened. His eyes flew open and he found himself grasping at John tighter than he had been before. Only a soft, almost surprised, gasp left his lips. Then that was it. He closed his eyes before relaxing against the couch, not knowing what to do now that his body felt down for the count and was ready to just lay somewhere for the rest of the day._

John collapsed on top of Sherlock without a care, panting into his neck and shifting as it became more than obvious that they would both need showers and a decent change of clothes. "Sherlock," he whispered as his hand started to gently run through the boy's hair. "God, Sherlock, that was amazing." He grinned and lifted his head. Three bruises on his neck, a flushed face that spoke wonders about their activities, and closed eyes. "D'you want me to carry you to bed, then? Looks like you could use a bit of a nap." His smile was lazy and it was clear he was more content to lay on the couch with Sherlock and not move him.

_Sherlock opened his eyes slightly to look up at John. "No, I have to do homework still," he said softly, turning his head then sitting himself up a bit so John was pushed up with him. "Come on, get up. If you come with me I'll get you some clothes you can wear so we're out of these." He felt sticky in places he normally wasn't and it was certain that this mess would be something new to deal with. The one real thing on his mind that mattered was what this made him and John; rutting into each other until they came was enough to be called shagging in his eyes. He ran a hand through the path John had created with his own as he looked at the slightly older teen._


	10. Chapter 10

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

Get up? John let out a shaky breath and slowly sat up, blushing furiously at the growing dark spot on his jeans. He glanced at Sherlock sheepishly and stood, legs wobbly as he tried to focus. Usually after any sexual experience he was content to lay with the person, talk and kiss lazily, giggle and relax. The boy he was with preferred to return to business, apparently. Homework and the like. He took a small step back and chuckled. Still in the afterglow, that much was for certain. Sherlock could do homework and he would be content to lay on the couch for a quick nap. "D'you mind if I shower, too?" He asked softly as he offered his hand to the other boy.

_Sherlock got up as well. Why the hell weren't his legs working correctly? He didn't like that aspect one bit. He kept his eyes from the dark spot on John's jeans, knowing that there was a wet spot on his, thankfully, black slacks. He took John's hand and started slowly walking towards his bedroom. "No, I'll get you out a towel once I'm done," he said. Upon entering his bedroom he got out a pair of new boxers for himself and a pair of larger sweatpants for John. If John had meant the two of them take a shower together he wasn't sure. It wasn't too far of a leap since they'd practically shagged just minutes ago, though they were wearing clothes. How odd it felt to know that he technically wasn't a virgin anymore._

"Fantastic," John muttered as he grabbed the sweatpants and smiled a bit at Sherlock. "I'll be out in the living room, then. No rush." After a small nod and a hesitant kiss to the boy's cheek he left the bedroom, legs still wobbling a bit. Now it was just a bit of a waiting game, wasn't it? What if Sherlock started to regret it all? His gut twisted at the thought and he collapsed against the couch with a sigh. God, he hoped he hadn't made a mistake. The progression had certainly been natural but in a weekend he'd been Sherlock's first kiss and practically taken his virginity. Way to go, Watson.

_John left and that concreted it in Sherlock's mind that they weren't going to shower together, which was good because he wasn't ready for that step at all. Frotting was one thing but showering together was something completely different. He changed out of his clothes, frowning at the goo in his boxers before tossing it all to his hamper. He'd start the clothes after his shower. He took a quick shower, examined the bruises on his neck that were clearly going to stay for a bit, then got out, hair still wet from the water and dripping on his grey t-shirt. He entered the living room and moved John's feet so he could sit down. After a second he leaned over and pecked John's lips to show he didn't regret what had happened._

John gently lifted his head, smiling at the other boy after the kiss. "Thanks," he whispered as he stood up and grabbed the sweatpants he'd been given. He turned and sifted through the plastic bag beside the couch, grabbing the second pair of boxers he'd managed to get brought to him that morning. "Be right back," he stated as he walked past Sherlock, gave him a quick kiss, and moved into the shower. He took his time washing, scrubbing his hair slowly and standing in the steaming water. By the time he was out, drying himself off and slipping the boxers and sweats on, it had probably been fifteen or so minutes. He skipped a shirt and moved into the living room, standing in front of Sherlock for a long moment before speaking. "Good then?"

_By this time Mythbusters was off so he turned off the telly and picked up the book, picking up where he had left off when he and John had done what they had done. On that piece of paper he jotted things down relative to what he was supposed to be looking for along with an explanation of why he had thought it was that. He was lost in his task when John interrupted him. There was a small frown on his face from that interruption; he hated being interrupted or made to stop doing something. "Yes," he said simply. They were good, there was nothing John needed to be worrying or thinking over very much. Well, there was one thing. "Are we in an actual relationship," he questioned. "What we did constitutes it as one."_

An actual relationship. If he was in a relationship with every person he'd had sexual relations with... John blushed at the amount of girlfriends he might have running around before moving to sit down next to Sherlock. "I mean, we can be. I'm not saying we have to just because we got each other off but if you want to be in a relationship," he paused and grinned slightly, "I wouldn't mind calling you my boyfriend at all." Hell, Sherlock was already wearing his dog tags and they'd snogged, got each other off. It would probably only progress from there. "I just don't want you to think I forced you or anything."

_Sherlock had been taught to think that way; if someone were to have sex or do something out of sexual want for both parties it resulted from a relationship. He could see that John hadn't been taught that same way of thinking right away. His black pen began tapping against the book right away as a tool to calm himself without flapping his hands by his sides or rocking very, very slightly side to side. "You wouldn't be forcing me into it," he answered. "I've been a willing participant all the way through what we've done so far. I would be willing to be your boyfriend." That word felt so odd slipping off his tongue._

Boyfriend. John couldn't help but smile and blush, dropping his head and rubbing at the back of his neck. Sherlock Holmes was his /boyfriend/. They were living in the same flat. The entire weekend had changed his outlook on life, really. "You're my boyfriend, then," he whispered as he leaned over and gave the boy a slow kiss, only pulling away when his back started protesting to the position. "I rather like the sound of that. Boyfriend." He tested the word in his mouth, grinning again and leaning back to rest against the couch, scratching at his bare stomach without thinking much about it.

_They were together. John would probably start calling him his boyfriend around his mates. It would get around school and... who knew what would happen from there. Would the teasing get worse or would it get better? Would John stop it all until he left to go to basic training? He felt a bond with the young adult kissing him and who he was kissing back. "Are you going to tell people about it," he asked once John was sitting and scratching his muscled stomach. "I'm not going to be around your friends, so you know. You'd have to really convince me to do something like that."_

Now all the questions, the necessities that every couple had to go through in their school. "I'm not going to tell people if you don't want me to," John stated with a sure nod as he tilted his head and looked at his boyfriend. The thought made him blush slightly. "And I don't expect you to be around them. Tad annoying, they are. I don't expect that in the slightest. I'll sit with you at lunch, if you want. Hold your hand in the halls and all that. I'm yours now," he explained simply. A calm, lopsided smile settled over his lips as he brought his legs up and crossed them on the couch. "It's up to you, Sherlock."

_It was up to him. "You don't have to sit with me at lunch; I'm typically in the band room anyways during that time. You don't have to tell people but you can hold my hand. The news will get around fast that we're dating if you do that alone. I'm not going to be around your friends because they're annoying and I'm not very fond of them." There. He had touched on all things that John had really brought up before saying that it was all up to him. "I don't mind if you kiss me but nothing too much." It was odd enough kissing in the quiet of his flat, well technically it was now theirs._

Well, that covered everything. John nodded and let his eyes drift to the boy's neck. The bruises were so obvious, prominent on Sherlock's pale neck. He would certainly feel them tomorrow while they were at school. He bit his bottom lip and nodded toward his boyfriend's homework. "You can go back to work, if you want. I didn't mean to interrupt anything." He smiled softly and and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders with a soft sigh. He didn't feel much like doing his homework and instead let his head fall back as he forced himself to relax.

_His eyes went back to the book in front of him. "It's fine. You go ahead and take a nap." Sherlock quietly began reading, lasting only a few moments before remembering that he needed to do his laundry. He got up and grabbed the hamper, bringing it to the washing machine and starting up the load. It made a noise when done so he knew he could just go ahead and work. Once back to the couch he did such, now able to relax. His body felt loose, perhaps from the release he and John had shared. That was a hell of a thing. He did want to wait a while to do that again for when their relationship had strengthened._

The movement made John crack one eye open, watching Sherlock leave and then return. What had all the walking around been about, then? Then he heard the washing machine and grinned a bit. He'd have to buy some laundry soap. He shifted a bit on the couch, falling slowly to the side and curling in a tight ball as he rested his head on his pillow. He couldn't help the fact that the balls of his feet were touching his boyfriend's hip. No more moving, then. His breathing evened out slightly and before long soft snores were being pressed into his pillow.

_John slept a lot. Sherlock felt that was where they differed. He rarely slept while John seemed to do so for much of the day. It was different for him. While he worked Mrs. Hudson came up to deliver the chicken pot pie and apple cake to them, leaving with a wink in the direction of the couch. She knew. No point hiding it from the woman. He finished up what he was to do and glanced at the clock. He needed to sleep now if he was going to do so at all. Quietly he got up, covering John up with another blanket before going off in the direction of his room. Poe was already laying on the bed, breathing deeply to indicate that she was sleeping. Sherlock set his alarm and climbed into the bed. The laundry was done and in a pile in the center of his floor that he could do after work tomorrow. With that as a last thought he fell asleep._

Alarm. John groaned and buried his face into his pillow, sliding his finger across his phone to put the bloody thing back on snooze. He didn't fancy waking up and going to school. It meant the real world, people who would more than likely judge them for their relationship. He'd much rather lay on the couch, snog his boyfriend, and eat food made by Mrs. Hudson. He curled into a tighter ball on the couch, pulled the blanket over his head, and let out a small shout. Stupid world. Early morning. Stupid everything, really. Hell, he hadn't even finished his homework.

_Damned thing. Sherlock heard his own alarm and shut it off quickly. He did get up, going right along with his regular routine which was what he needed. Quietly he took his shower and walked out with a towel around his waist to start the coffee and cut himself a piece of the cake from yesterday. From there he went back to his room and dressed in his typical clothes that always looked so posh. The bruises on his pale neck were darker than yesterday, he observed. They were something that was going to be noticed by anyone who looked at him. The news of he and John was going to spread fast._

The smell of coffee was enough to make John poke his head out from the blanket, shivering a bit at the cooler air that was surrounding him. Sherlock was awake, then. He'd hear the shower and all that. Getting up, though, wasn't something he was going to do until absolutely necessary. He stayed on the couch, his eyes slipping shut as he fell back into a light sleep. His alarm went off again and he shouted again, turning the alarm off and sitting up, the blanket falling from his chest as he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "Dun' wanna get up," he mumbled.

_Sherlock was in the middle of eating when John randomly shouted, making him jump. He took that as a cue to get coffee for his boyfriend, he still found it odd to call someone that, and took it out to him, cream in it as well. "Up," he said, taking away the blanket from John's body and tossing it to a chair. "Get up." He ran his fingers through his still drying hair before touching the cheek his brother had slapped gingerly. Yeah, still hurt. He sighed then walked off, set to doing his routine with or without listening to John groan and gripe about getting up._

John shivered as the blanket disappeared, taking the warm cup of coffee with a mumbled "Thanks," and took a long sip. Amazing. He grinned and held the mug close for a long moment before slowly standing. One outfit left which meant he'd have to run home after rugby practice and grab more clothes. He pulled the large sweatpants off and easily yanked his jeans on, walking into the kitchen with his mug in one hand and a team rugby shirt in the other. He set his mug down, pulled the shirt on, and grabbed an apple from the fridge. It was still too early so he moved to lean against the counter, eyes closed as he took a large bite from his breakfast.

_On the fridge there was now a sticky note that had Sherlock's typical work times so John would have that in mind in case he had anything going on in that mind of his. His own breakfast was done and he poured a coffee into his carrier so he would have it to drink through the morning. It was on the table and he came back a few seconds later with his backpack on a shoulder along with his violin. He hadn't touched it all weekend. He'd have to practice hard later. "Do you have rugby practice tonight," he questioned as he cut another slice of the apple cake. It was his second one. He could get used to eating like this everyday in the morning if he let himself._

John nodded and hummed around the bite in his mouth, chewing it before speaking. "Yeah. I'll have to run by my flat to grab some things, toothbrush and all that. I should be back around seven tonight." He lifted his mug, wiggling his legs on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. "Work tonight? Or, uh, violin practice?" He shrugged and studied his boyfriend with a tilted head, smile soft as he slid from the counter and moved forward. The urge to give Sherlock a good morning kiss had been too strong. He gently met the boy's lips, sucking gently at the bottom one as his free arm wrapped around the boy's waist and pulled him closer.

_"I have work. My schedule's on the fridge along when I take breaks." That had been added for the off chance that John wanted to come and see him in person while at the little bookstore. "I practice violin in school." He took his backpack off, sliding it to the floor and had been about to bring his fork to his mouth when John had moved towards him and kissed his lips, sucking on his bottom one while his other arm wrapped around Sherlock's waist. With his hands in use all he could do was kiss him back and allow the plate to be a barrier between their upper bodies. All in all it worked rather nicely and when he pulled away there was color on his cheeks and a smile on his face._

John glanced at the post-it after they kiss, smiling a bit. "You have a break when I should be around there after practice," he whispered before slowly pulling away from Sherlock and taking a large bite from his apple. "I'll come and see you," he muttered around the food in his mouth before moving into the living room and putting his shoes on. "Nice and sweaty, all handsome and such while I'm still in my practice kit." He stood up and lifted his book bag over one shoulder and grinning his most charming smile at his boyfriend. "That was a fantastic kiss, by the way."

_Sherlock glanced back at the fridge when John looked at it. John was gone in a second, just when he was growing used to him being there, and was talking about how he would come all sweaty to the store. He set down the plate at the table for him to take care of later, then put his own backpack on a shoulder with the coffee mug in hand, the warmth keeping his hands warm. His shoes were already on, nice Italian shoes that he had gotten a few birthdays ago. The dog tags were against his skin, already becoming something for him to get used to. "Thank you," he said at the compliment. "I learned from the best."_

That comment made John blush furiously, head low as he tried to hide it. "Oi, 'M not the best," he whispered with a small cough. He cleared his throat and laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Not really. You're picking it up real fast, though. I would rather stay here all day and snog you." He licked his lips and took a small step forward, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss on his lips before glancing toward the kitchen. That's when it all hit him. The food. Sherlock was eating cake. "Mrs. Hudson came upstairs?" He squeaked, his face pale as he looked over at Sherlock. "D-Does she know?"

_Ha! He'd gotten him to blush. The fact made a proud smile spread across Sherlock's face. He watched the change after the kiss that made his head tilt to the side and his brow furrow. "It's hard to keep what we were doing a secret with a squeaky couch and a building where voices carry easily." He saw how that bluntness might affect John so he added quickly, "You were asleep on the couch when she came up, when I was doing a bit of homework. She only winked before leaving." That could mean nothing. But Mrs. Hudson knew. Sherlock knew that she knew. "It's nothing to worry about."_

"It was a squeaky couch," John mumbled in agreement before looking at Sherlock and laughing. "God, she was so right. She predicted us half-shagging before we even thought about it, didn't she?" He laughed again, shaking his head and closing his eyes as he thought about it all. He moved forward and embrace his boyfriend without hesitation, giggling into his chest. That's when he felt the dog tags pressing slight against his cheek, pulling his head back in slight shock. "You're wearing them?" He asked, eyes wide and wonder written across his face.

_Next time, because he was sure there was going to be a next time, they should move to another place that wasn't so squeaky. The hug brought warmth to his cool body and when John retracted with wide eyes he tilted his head to the side. "Oh," he said, a pink color coming to his cheeks, "Yeah. Do you want me to take them off?" John had given them as a present. He used things that he got. He didn't keep things around for decoration very often. "I can if you want me to." Or if it turned out the appropriate thing was to not wear them. Social norms were still beyond him._

"What? No. God, no. Of course not. Keep them on," John whispered as he kept his eyes trained on the soft bump under the boy's shirt, mouth slightly open as he swallowed nervously. Sherlock was wearing his dog tags. _Wearing them_. He smiled warmly and leaned forward, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss and resting his hand over the dog tags. "I didn't think you'd wear them, really. They're big and annoying... but you are." He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes for a long moment, his embrace around Sherlock tightening as he attempted to calm himself down. Too many emotions.

_He didn't understand John. First he made a big deal out of wearing them and now he was saying how he wasn't expecting he'd wear them? Sherlock was definitely frowning as he looked at the older teen, just trying to figure out what was going on. John was holding onto him and his own arms went slowly around John's shoulders to draw him in since he seemed to need the closeness for now. His chin was on the top of his head, staring off into the area behind John. "Why wouldn't I wear them? I don't think they're annoying. They're easy to ignore." There was still a part of him that said to take them off now that John was overcome with emotions because he was wearing the metal objects._

"I dunno, because I'm an idiot who over thinks things," John mumbled into his boyfriend's chest. Tonight was certainly a night for over thinking. His boyfriend would not be able to hold him like this in nine weeks. Eight now, since it was Monday. He wouldn't get to snog Sherlock, hold him, watch that idiotic telly program. "I think it's wonderful that you wear them. It makes me so happy," He chuckled and turned his head slightly, only to place a soft kiss on the boy's neck. At this rate Sherlock didn't really need any more bruises. The thought made him smirk and he closed his eyes. "You're also rather fantastic at hugging."

_That made sense. He'd just chalk John's reaction to overthinking. Sherlock was looking down at him now as the kiss was placed to his neck. The young adult was obviously thinking about something serious now. "Thank you. I'll hug you later. We need to get to school now." They had a while until it actually started but Sherlock needed his schedule to be kept or he'd flip out. It wasn't a flexible thing, his schedule. John was going to start discovering that quickly as long as he was here in London and not off fighting a pointless war._

John wanted to open his mouth and remind his boyfriend that they had quite a while before they needed to be there but he stopped himself. "All right," he whispered with a small nod, grabbing Sherlock's hand. "Off we go then. First day of school as boyfriends." He squeezed the boy's hand and slipped his mobile in his pocket as it vibrated. A text from a girl, he knew, asking where he'd been all weekend. He'd missed two large parties and knew that everybody would be asking where he was, why he wasn't picking up the hottest girls at the party. "Anything in particular you want for dinner tonight?"

_Sherlock looked at the phone, seeing that the name was a girl's when he read at least the contact. "I was thinking pizza," he said, glancing away. "That or some leftovers that Mrs. Hudson brought up with the apple cake." He was silent for a few seconds before asking, knowing there wasn't going to be a good answer, "How many girls have you been with? I mean like we were last night and actual intercourse." He needed to know the number. He needed to know how far back he was on the list that people John had gotten off with._

So apparently he could hide everything. It wasn't a surprise, really. Sherlock was really smart. John cleared his throat and looked up at his boyfriend. Lying wouldn't do any good, he would probably be able to tell. Being honest in a relationship was the best thing. Besides, Sherlock had asked. He wanted to know. After several moments of thinking, as well as counting, he shifted slightly on his feet and took a deep breath. "Total? I've been with fourteen. Twelve girls and two guys. I'm rather prone to sleeping with Sarah Sawyer when I'm drunk so when she's around it's usually her." There. Honestly. He held Sherlock's gaze even though he was embarrassed as Hell. "Why?"

_John had to think and count. Right away he knew he might not want to hear the answer. And he was right, he didn't. But he had asked. Fourteen people was a grand total, both men and women. Mainly women. Sherlock said nothing about it for a few moments as he thought. He ignored the question of why he had asked and proceeded to ask his own. "Am I included on the list or am I not counted because we've never had intercourse." Another honest question. He was very honest and expected it back. "I just would like to know." John had experience, which wasn't a bad thing, but Sherlock was a bit discomforted just how many people he'd been with._

"You're counted. You said like last night or actual intercourse so I counted you. You're... you're fourteen," John ended in a mumble. With that number laid out he felt like he got around a lot and, normally, that number was something he was proud of. Not this morning. He wanted to bury his head in sand and not pull it out until that look of shock left his boyfriend's face. "You hate me now, don't you?" He whispered as he chanced a small look over at Sherlock. "I mean, you can, if you want. That's really a lot of people and I would understand if you didn't want a relationship or anything now."

_He was fourteen. Thank God. It wasn't like he was a huge number. Sherlock nodded his head a little bit. John was obviously uncomfortable when he usually would have been proud of saying the number. Currently he was speaking to someone who believed in waiting, despite the fact that he hadn't himself. "I don't hate you. And I do not want to end this." He breathed in then out slowly before continuing. "I just wanted to know. Someone should know those things before partaking in more things, such as actual intercourse. I don't want to run the risk of hurting myself." Now he knew that until he knew John was clean, in other words tests involved, it would have to be a condom... that was if they decided to do anything like that._

It felt like a brick had been lifted off of his chest. John smiled a bit and looked up at him, relief written across his face. "Yeah, of course." There was a long pause before he bit his bottom lip. "And I'm not going to do that anymore, yeah? I've got you now. I'm not going to ruin this, Sherlock." It was the truth, too. He had something to look forward to everyday, to keep as he went off to war. "I don't want to ruin this because my dick got in the way." It was frank but he didn't care. He needed Sherlock to know. No more shagging. No more parties, probably. That's what always led him to bed anyway.

_"Good." Sherlock was going to have to trust that. He did, but to a certain extent. Seeing as believing. If John lasted the week without a party or drinking at all he would continue on with the natural pace that they're relationship was going to go through while John was here. "I'm glad to hear that you're not going to do any of that stuff anymore." Unless John wanted to bring him along, which he doubted would happen since he'd only get picked on the whole time until he went off to his own little corner to be alone. He'd been to a party once and that was exactly what had happened. "Let's go, alright?" He was back to the strict adherence to his routine._

"Right, yeah," John nodded and squeezed Sherlock's hand before moving down the stairs. "Have a good day Mrs. Hudson!" He shouted over his shoulder before he hit the sidewalk. They had two options now. His car was across the street and it would certainly get them to school a bit faster but Sherlock seemed to be on a rather strict morning schedule. Anyway didn’t he want to mess that up. "I've got my keys with me if you want to just drive there. Bit faster, if that works for you." He motioned his head toward his bright blue Honda with a simple shrug. No forcing him, just let the boy decide.

_That Honda would probably break down soon but Sherlock nodded his head. "The car works fine with me." He'd get there earlier in that case, giving him time to relax a bit and drink his coffee before classes started. Seemed like a good plan to him. His hands were full as he started crossing the street so they stayed mainly by his side, one arm bent with the coffee mug in it. He waited for John to get there and unlock the door. "You don't have to worry about driving me to work since you have practice and I'll just walk back. It's no problem." But seeing John at his break would make things nice._

John easily unlocked the door, sliding in and tossing his book bag into the back seat. "You could always just drive it there yourself," he offered as he started it and easily pulled into the road. It lunged forward slightly before running smoothly. "I mean, just remember that it's rough coming out of first gear but that's about it, really." He stopped at a red light, shifting slightly in his seat and grinning. "Wouldn't bother me at all. I mean, I can just walk from practice to here. Not too far." He shrugged and started moving the car again, easily pulling into the school parking lot.

_Sherlock got in as well and heard the suggestion. He would do it, he would rather drive than walk, but there was one problem to that plan: He didn't know how to drive. Cars didn't interest him in a city where cabs and the tube were available to him for very low prices. "I'm fine with walking," he said when they pulled into the school, glancing over at John. "It gives me a bit of exercise daily so it's not a bad thing." Unless it was winter or his bag was particularly heavy. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to start getting his things back from where he had put them on the back seat._

"Not a problem," John said with a grin, watching Sherlock as he grabbed everything from the back. "You look good," he whispered before leaning forward and meeting his boyfriend's lips. Everything he did was bloody adorable. Reaching for his bags, sitting in his car. He couldn't help himself. He pulled away slowly and exhaled shakily The chances of them doing that during school hours was slim. The teachers weren't too keen on watching kids snog in the hallways. Holding hands was probably the most contact he would get until they were both home for the night. "I'll make pizza tonight, all right? Anything you want on it?"

_Around this time in the morning only janitors were around. And they were going around, making last minute preparations to the school. He wouldn't mind having a few stolen kisses to get him through another Monday, one of the worst days for him because it seemed that it all came back to him that he was disliked and had to fend for himself. He put his backpack on and leaned in to kiss John's lips again before opening the door with the coffee mug in hand. "I like onions, black olives, and some kind of bacon on mine." If it was going to be homemade, then why not? "If you don't like something there you can not put it on." He got out after those words and took a long drink, another thing to hopefully get him through the day._

When it was Sherlock stealing kisses John couldn't help but grin like an idiot. It just felt better when it was his boyfriend who wanted to kiss, to lean forward with some sort of intention. "I'll just do a half and half type thing, y'know? I'm not a huge fan of bacon. Breaks the diet," he declared before standing on his toes and gently meeting Sherlock's lips. The kiss was long and slow, his tongue daringly running across the boy's bottom lip. Sod the janitors, right now he needed something to help him get through classes and practice. Sherlock's kissing seemed to be the perfect thing.

_"You don't need a diet." That's what he had intended to say but John's lips had cut him off halfway through. They had about fifteen minutes until a student that might know could come in. So he kissed him back. He needed this as much as his boyfriend did. His mouth opened up at that silent question. So long as they didn't take it as far as the night before he was fine with this arrangement. Sherlock pulled away slightly and suggested, "Let's continue this once I put my stuff down where I usually sit, alright?" Without waiting for an answer he went in that direction, going through the cafeteria to his little space that the light barely touched to put down his things on the ground._

John kept his eyes closed for a long moment before following after Sherlock. More kissing. Something last night had definitely worked. Now he didn't feel as nervous when he went to kiss Sherlock, didn't feel like he was crossing any lines. He set his book bag down and casually leaned against the wall. Last night he'd pinned Sherlock to the couch and now he wanted the boy to press him against the wall, use his height to tower over him. Not that he was going to tell Sherlock that. He didn't want to force the issue. Instead he bit his bottom lip, hands shoved in his pockets, and studied his boyfriend.

_He knew what John wanted, or at least pieces of it. John didn't say he wanted Sherlock to kiss him, but it could be inferred; the way he looked at him biting his lip and had leaned up against the wall rather than move in closer. They were clues so that he felt a bit confident as he met John's eyes for a split second. It was after that he moved in and kissed him, having to bend down quite a bit so that he could reach, but kissing nonetheless. His body was a proper distance apart from John's as he focused in on the act of kissing him. It was still John's turn to make those stepping stones of their relationship, going to each one and Sherlock either saying yes or no._

Well, he'd caught on to the kissing, which was rather nice. John opened his mouth against Sherlock's as he moved his arms and gently tugged his boyfriend closer. They had enough time to snog for at least ten minutes before more students started showing up. He gripped the boy's hips and pulled softly, whimpering into Sherlock's mouth. Jesus, he was so needy in the morning but he couldn't help himself. The thought that Sherlock was _his_ , marked for everybody to know, made him so possessive and eager to snog him.

_John was whimpering **for** him. Sherlock hadn't heard something like that before and it amazed him. He was drawn closer by John's pulling hands before that noise in his mouth. His mouth was open as well and he felt John's warm body against his, something he could revel in. With his weight he was cold often and John's body felt like a blanket in the winter. He kissed him a tad bit more eagerly and finally lifted a hand to rest on John's neck while the other fisted the material of John's shirt._

And there it was. Eager kissing. The slight warmth of Sherlock's lanky body pressed against him made his mind swim with nothing but thoughts of his new boyfriend. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his legs around Sherlock's waist and shag against the wall. That would have been amazing. But they were at school and that would probably end in them being arrested. Not something he was too eager about doing. The moment he needed to breathe he pulled away, gasping for breath and looking up at Sherlock. "That was... yeah. That was good. I liked that," he whispered as one hand scratched gently at the boy's lower back.

_They had a good five minutes left when John had pulled away. But Sherlock didn't complain. He was in the same state as John, gasping for breath greedily. He liked kissing John, he really did. Each time the kisses went deeper, more meaningful, and more eager. His lips had already taken the cue to have the just kissed look when John scratched at his lower back. He accepted the compliments eagerly. "I liked it too," he mumbled back, leaning in close enough so he could rest his head on John's shoulder with his arms moving smoothly to loop around John's neck. "We should try it at the flat." On a couch maybe. He was growing fond of the couch he partially lost his virginity on._

If Sherlock wanted to do anything at the flat John was more than happy to help. Kissing, massaging... he blushed as his thoughts wandered into more dangerous territory. Instead he focused on the boy in his arms, holding him close and turning his head slightly to whisper in his ear. "Moments like these," he started, his voice soft, "I'm gonna think about this when I'm out there. Keep my thoughts up and all that. I'm just gonna think about you and things like this." He placed a gentle kiss behind Sherlock's ear and tensed the muscles in his arms to keep Sherlock close.

_His eyes closed as he was whispered to, hearing only something that he was supposed to hear. It was like a secret of sorts. Sherlock smiled; he was going to be that source of happiness in a place that had none. How could he not be happy? How could his heart not race and his stomach do a flip? He didn't want to let go of John just yet. It wasn't just him against the world anymore. The thought made him push his forehead against John's neck. "Don't let me go," he murmured out, his breath bouncing back hotly from the skin, "Not yet."_

That was certainly an order John could follow. Not letting go. He never wanted to. The selfish part of him wanted to hold on to Sherlock forever, hold him tight and keep him safe from everything. "Okay," he whispered in reply, letting his eyes shut as he ignored their surroundings. For a moment he could pretend they were back in the flat, not in their bloody dining hall at school. They could stay like this all day, not worry about students seeing them. "I'm never going to let go, Sherlock," he mumbled with a slight nod of his head. "Ever. I'll always keep you safe."

_People were beginning to come into the school, chatting softly about weekends and homework they didn't do. Sherlock ignored that and held onto John, knowing John would keep him safe to the best of his ability. He ran his hands over John's back, reveling in the warmth of it. He smiled before pulling his head off John's shoulder. "Don't let me go until you have to." He was thinking in more of the literal sense, rather than the big picture of John never leaving him. That was too far off to know for sure. He hadn't a clue if John would be there tomorrow morning. He'd just have to wait and find out._


	11. Chapter 11

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

John didn't pull his face away, keeping it pressed against Sherlock's neck the best he could. Right now he didn't want to face the world. He wanted to stay right where he was, wrapping warming in Sherlock's arms and ignoring everything else. "Okay," he mumbled again, pressing his nose gently against one of the bruises from the previous night. All three were rather obvious and certainly brand new for Sherlock. "Sorry about those," he whispered as he finally lifted his head, smiling sheepishly at his boyfriend. The last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock look so thoroughly shagged but he'd done quite a good job of it.

_Sherlock smiled slightly at the apology and ducked his head back down into John's neck. A soft chuckle came out. "It's fine," he mumbled out, smiling wider. He looked up at him through his lashes with that same look on his face as a few moments ago. "If you're going to do that again, which I know you will, do it lower so they won't be obvious for anyone who looks at me to know what I've done over the weekend." The news already felt to be traveling fast. It would soon be out to the friends of people who were now whispering amongst themselves at the odd sight there._

The voices around them were definitely hushed but he heard them. John found it rather hard to care. One weekend had changed his outlook on school as a whole. If people wanted to talk then they could talk. He was still the Captain of the rugby team, a team that had been undefeated since he'd taken over. Let them all talk. "I'll do it on your hip," he whispered with a mischievous smirk, tugging Sherlock closer against him with a soft chuckle. "On your sides, across your ribs." His voice was hushed so nobody could hear, the words pressed into his boyfriend's neck.

_A smile found its way to his lips as he listened to John. "On my hip," he questioned quietly, knowing that this was part of the flirting game as well. "And on my sides and ribs? You're going to have to do a lot of work to get there." His voice was soft as he spoke back and John's words vibrated into his neck. "You are ambitious, though, I'll give you that much." Very slightly he pulled away and said, "I need to get some of my coffee. Let me go and we can sit down together on the ground. It'd be easier since I'm so much taller than you."_

Right. John pulled away slightly and smiled, looking up at him for a long moment. "I'm willing to work that hard if you really want that," he whispered with a tilted smirk. He wanted to take his boyfriend to a dark corner, one where nobody would whisper and talk, and just hold him. "To map out your body and memorize it. Know every bump, little scar." He slid down the wall with a proud smirk now, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. He reached over, grabbed Sherlock's coffee, and held it up for him. "That's my goal. To know every little thing that makes you squirm and gasp and moan."

_"Hate to tell you this, but I don't really have many scars." Sherlock took the coffee and sat down on the ground next to John. He could feel himself flushing so as he took a drink he turned his head away so John wouldn't see more of it. When he finished he knew he was under control. "You want to know that so you have something better to think about than last night for when you're away," he teased gently. Not that he could blame him. Sherlock would want to remember things about John once he was gone. "I'm sure there's going to be a lot that makes me do that. I already know a lot of things that make me squirm, but not in the context that you want."_

"Your neck," John stated softly, raising an eyebrow as he studied Sherlock. "It's sensitive. You squirm a bunch," he added with a chuckle. "I think your ribs will be the same since you're so ticklish. Your stomach," his voice dropped as his eyes studied his boyfriend's body. There was no way he could really argue with Sherlock about his statement. Not really. It was more than true. At night when he was sleeping in the desert he would certainly think about Sherlock and he wanted it to be something good. If it was talking over hot chocolate or actually shagging, he didn't care. He just wanted to remember Sherlock.

_Sherlock put a finger under John's chin to tilt up his head. "My face is not down there," he murmured, doing a mean interpretation of how he heard some of the girls talk in the halls. He smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "Anywhere else you can think of that I might have that reaction?" As he looked at the man he knew that this was probably the person he was going to lose it all to; John had already laid claim to his lips and first time getting off. It wasn't too far of a leap to sex. And, surprisingly, Sherlock was fine with that. Having sex with John could be a once in a lifetime chance with their predicament with the army. He leaned in and kissed him again at the thoughts he was having._

John blushed furiously and had opening his mouth to apologize when Sherlock prevented that. He was actively kissing him, asking questions that were certainly on the right track to give him an erection before class. He waited until the kissing was done, smiling sheepishly before speaking. "Probably the inside of your thigh," he whispered with a small blush. "Back of your knee. Inside of your bicep." He leaned forward to give his boyfriend a slow kiss, taking it all in because with eight weeks left now that's all he could do. Remember everything, file it all away so he wouldn't lose those memories. "Can I kiss you at work today?" He asked against Sherlock's lips, his eyes still shut.

_Sherlock found himself laughing as John said those areas. They were probably right. His body was just a ball of nerves and was always very sensitive to touch. "You'll have to try those places sometime," he murmured back. The point of this was not to make John get aroused, but just to talk and try to be some kind of normal couple. "My boss's daughter has a crush on me. You can kiss me as long as you don't see a girl our age around." But he'd probably be out back for his break, smoking a cigarette so he wouldn't be so jittery. He just continued to kiss John, wanting to forget that he'd have to put up with people today that probably would hurt him. He didn't want this to be another Monday._

"I promise I will try them sometime," John replied before moving his lips against Sherlock's. It was too tempting not to, too wonderful to turn him down. That's when he heard a loud voice. Marty. He pulled away slowly from the kiss and looked around the dining hall. Marty Jackson. The biggest kid on the rugby team and the one John was fairly sure was responsible for leading all of the bullying against his boyfriend. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed Sherlock's hand, squeezing it tightly. "They're not gonna tease you anymore, all right?" He turned to look at the other boy, his face suddenly serious. "I'll make 'em run at practice if I have to."

_Sherlock glanced over at the bloke and then turned his head away. He didn't meet that person's eyes, no way. If he did he typically got shoved into a locker or most of the rugby team sicked on him with a vendetta he didn't understand. But John's hand grab and the words he heard made him feel a bit safer. Out of the team he wasn't too sure John could do very much. "Okay," he said quietly, nodding his head a little bit with wide eyes -- first time being defended by someone other than his now estranged brother. "You do know they're going to do something to me today, right? It probably won't be anything too bad but I'm not sure. I did, after all, take their captain from them."_

"You didn't take me from them. Hell, Sherlock, five of us are interested in blokes in some way so seeing me with you isn't a big deal." John paused and shrugged, calm as could be. "It isn't going to be a problem. I'll take them down if I need to. Nobody bullies my wonderful boyfriend. That's just not gonna happen. At all." He leaned over and gently kissed his boyfriend, nipping at the boy's bottom lip before pulling away. "I'll stand next to you the entire bloody day if I have to, let everybody know that you're mine and I'm yours and they aren't bullying you." He shifted slightly on the ground and leaned slightly to the side, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

_"You might have to do that." The glare he was getting from Marty Jackson was one to hope death rays didn't come from. Sherlock glanced down at his boyfriend after the kiss. "You might have to stand next to me if you want to make that point." People weren't going to stop overnight. There was Anderson and Donovan, the schools obvious couple -- obvious to anyone but Anderson's girlfriend -- who wouldn't be stopped. Then there were the ones that were in the background that he could get along with such as the new kid Jim or Moran or even that Adler girl who was a year or two younger than him. People didn't like him. And he sighed at that fact, a soft sigh that made him pull away slightly._

John looked up curiously as Sherlock pulled away. What had he done? "Right," he muttered before straightening his back and clearing his throat. "I will, Sherlock. I mean it. I'm going to stop people from beating you up if I have to beat them up myself." He squeezed his boyfriend's hand in a comforting gesture, trying to calm Sherlock down. Something had clearly happened and he imagine it was all of that thinking he did. "D'you want me to go right now? I can, if y'want. I don't want to bug you or anything if you're thinking." He licked his lips and glanced at Sherlock, clearly a bit nervous now. What else could he do? He didn't know what Sherlock was thinking about and he'd pulled away from the bit of physical contact.

_Sherlock was more nervous about getting hurt now. Marty didn't like him and liked to make that known. He looked over at John and shook his head. "No, I don't want you to go." If he did Marty would swoop in sooner. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of John's mouth. "Stay with me for as long as the bell rings to dismiss us for classes, alright?" He moved back close to John so not to confuse him, though his nervous eyes kept glancing to the large rugby player that was talking with a few other guys on the team who disliked him, them glancing over as well while they talked. "Hold me for a bit, alright?" Today felt like it wasn't going to be as good as it could be with having to figure out how to evade being hit._

John instantly wrapped his free arm around Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him closer without a second thought. "Don't worry about them, Sherlock. I mean, I know I can't force you to do that or get rid of those thoughts," a long pause where he turned his head and held his boyfriend's gaze, "But just know that they are going to leave you alone. I don't want to sound cocky but you're dating the rugby captain now. You've got a bit of immunity." He grinned and chuckled a bit, trying to cheer the boy up the best he could. "And tonight we will go home and I'll pin you up against the door and snog you senseless, make you pizza and then snuggle with you while we watch Doctor Who."

_What the hell was Doctor Who? But Sherlock did feel reassured. Perhaps dating John was a better move than he had thought. He wasn't going to be doing this just because of his obvious attraction to the man, but for the safety everyone should have at school. He leaned his head down a bit and rested it against John's. "I'll hold you to all that. From the snogging to the pizza and to the cuddling." That telly show, he was guessing it was a telly show, would be something he might want to pass on. It didn't sound like something he'd like. Mythbusters was more of his type of show; watching experiments and things catch on fire in a smart, scientific way._

"Good. I'll even shower before all of it," John whispered with a soft laugh and a blush. He wanted to say so many things, he wanted to hold Sherlock and whisper sweet nothings in his ear all day. "What class d'you have first? I'll walk you to it," he mumbled as he let his eyes close. There was no way he was going to let his boyfriend walk the halls alone now because all he could think about was people teasing him for having a boyfriend. Finding new ways to get to him emotionally. That hurt more than John thought it would, just thinking about it. "You can sleep on the couch with me tonight, if you want," he finally offered, not looking at Sherlock as he spoke.

_"You better shower. I am not being with you while you're a sweaty mess." Sherlock thought for a moment on his class schedule before saying, "I have Trigonometry first block." It would be nice having someone to walk him to his classes in the morning, especially his boyfriend. God, it was still odd calling John that in his head. He tilted his head to the side out of curiosity. John wanted him to sleep with him on the couch? "Is there any room for me," he asked quietly. The couch was built for one person to sleep on, not two. It probably would squeak around. "Would it be better if we slept in my bed?" Or not at all. He didn't know what would happen if they slept in the same area together._

"I'm not saying we have to," John replied almost instantly, the tips of his ears now red as his blush started spreading across his face. "I mean, I was just," he cleared his throat and shrugged. "I'm having nightmares already," he mumbled. It was clear he was a bit embarrassed about it but that he thought it was something he needed to talk about. "About war. Dying. I woke up last night in a cold sweat and nearly screaming. I'm not saying t-that we have to do anything but I'm just asking. It'd just be sleeping. That's it. I just wanted to sleep in the same area as you. If that's your bed, fine. That's fine." He swallowed nervously and took a deep breath, looking at Sherlock. "We don't have to," he stated softly. "I don't want to push you."

_Oh. **Oh**. This was something a partner was supposed to do, was supposed to help with. Sherlock listened before nodding his head a little bit, even though he only had a small idea of what he might do or say. "You can sleep in my room," he finally said, his voice soft. "It wouldn't a problem." He'd just have to make room and they'd have to not hog too many of the sheets from the other. And John said it didn't have to be anything more than laying next to each other... though last night wasn't supposed to gone past snogging and it had gone almost to the point of intercourse. But he had been fine with that change. Sherlock gave a small smile to John. "You're not pushing me."_

It looked like the world had been lifted off of John's shoulders, like he suddenly realized he was going to sleep through the entire night for the first time in at least two weeks. "Yeah, okay," he whispered with a small nod, chewing at his bottom lip as he sighed. "Good." That had gone a lot better than he thought and Sherlock was definitely sounding all right with it. They'd taken several steps forward from Friday night. "I'll even bring my own blanket so you can keep yours," he muttered with a sheepish smile. That's when the bell rang. Five minutes until their first class. They wouldn't see each other until near the end of the day while Sherlock was on break at work. He stood slowly and slipped his book bag on. "C'mon, let's get you to your horrid maths class."

_"Good. I'd rather not have a fight over a blanket with you in my sleep." Sherlock smiled and stood as well, feeling safe with John by his side. His backpack was on his shoulder and violin case in his hand. "Locker first and then maths class." He took John's hand, knowing that would be the best way, then started leading him to it. His body moved next to John's as he went through the small crowd of students down to where his locker space was. There was a crowd of students there, ones that typically said things to him, that were silent now. John was making them not say anything. He did the combination and started grabbing and unpacking things. John was his good luck charm._

John studied the group of students intently, the muscles of his upper body slightly tensed to make him look just a bit bigger. He was short, he knew that, but that's why he spent so much time in the gym and running. The muscles, he felt, made him look more intimidating. It was definitely working now. He let out a soft sigh and couldn't help the proud smile on his lips as he turned and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. Might as well rub it all in, right? Because Sherlock had a boyfriend that would protect him and the pathetic losers would have to find something else to do. "I'll text you when I'm out of practice," he said softly, watching the exchange of books from the boy's book bag to his locker. "Maybe send you a picture of me without a shirt."

_Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You don't have to send me a picture like that. All I have to do is look over and you're shirtless and scratching your stomach on my couch." The man had done that multiple times over the weekend. He smiled a little, flushing to himself, as he pulled out what he needed for his first class of the day. He put the bag on his shoulders and closed his locker with a small smile. John looked so happy to be together like this. "Do you need to go to your locker or do you have everything you need?" John hadn't done too much homework from what Sherlock had remembered. The man had really just slept and lazed around for the most part._

That was an entirely true statement. John was extremely comfortable with his body and had spent most of the weekend without a shirt. The fact that Sherlock had noticed, though, was driving him crazy. Now all he could think about was Sherlock touching him, running his fingers across his stomach and tracing his muscles. Thoughts like that were going to lead to further distraction, that much was for sure. "I'm still going to send you a picture like that. Me, fresh out of the shower from the locker room," he whispered, his voice hushed as he moved toward the maths classroom Sherlock would be in. "You'll like it, don't lie." He winked and laughed, leaning toward Sherlock and bumping their hips together slightly.

_Now Sherlock was blushing, his cheeks turning a pink color as he was taken to his class. He would not be able to do what John did. For him his body wasn't some kind of temple, it was a place he hated and didn't want to think about or mess with. But John... John was comfortable in his body, in his skin, and showed it by being willing to take pictures of himself after a shower. Sherlock didn't think he would ever have enough confidence in his body to do something like that. "I don't know what I'd do with the picture, John." Frivolous things were not kept on his phone. And that, to him, was something frivolous. When was he going to use a picture of John in life?_

John stopped walking as the stood next to the door of the classroom, looking up at his boyfriend. So amazingly innocent, wondering what he would do with a picture of John on his phone. "Stare at it," he whispered with a smile, taking a step closer to him. "Y'know, look at it when I'm gone and know that I'm yours." He shrugged simply as the one minute bell went off. "Right then. Off we go to class. Educate yourself, be a fantastic member of society, learn something," he stood on his toes and gave his boyfriend a slow kiss, pulling away with a small smile. "I'll see you soon, yeah? Your break at work." He took several steps backward, keeping his eyes locked on Sherlock, before turning and weaving through the hall to get to his English class.

_That last kiss and last looks at John were going to be enough get him through the day. Sherlock went into his classroom and from then on the day went quickly. He couldn't believe that he had no incidents with other students. It was because of John. There was an odd sense of happiness that he got that stuck with him through the day, even when he went to work. Molly could sense the change, not to mention see the bruises. She mainly stayed away from him as he went started going through his work day, putting away books and helping those few customers that actually needed it as he waited for John to show up from rugby practice or for the picture to arrive on his phone._

The day had been smooth, he'd managed to finish the homework he'd neglected all weekend while in class before turning it in. Rugby practice when amazingly well, even Marty commented on his new boyfriend. Instead of insults and yelling, he was getting claps on the back and congratulations. It was nice to know that even his team had his back. They vowed to not make fun of Sherlock, which easily eliminated one group of bullies. After practice he jumped in the shower, cleaning up before standing in front of the mirror. He was alone, the towel hanging low on his hips, and quickly snapped a picture with his phone, all of the muscles in his torso flexed and tight. Bit of a show-off but it was for Sherlock. He sent the picture to his boyfriend before drying off, getting dressed, and hoping in his car. Now he got to actually see his boyfriend. The drive to the small bookshop was quick and before long he was stepping in, noticing the young woman Sherlock had mentioned. "Sherlock?"

_Good Lord. Sherlock had been in the middle of doing something when the picture had arrived. Dammit John. He sighed quietly and put it away, keeping his reaction low. It was close to his break so he knew the man would be showing up soon to greet him. And he could hear him, but didn't go running towards him like he was desperate to see him, though that's how he felt. Molly said softly, "He's in the row on poetry," before going back to her own work. Sherlock's mind was filled with John's body with the strong muscles and the towel barely hanging onto his hipbones. Then there was the obvious signs that he had gotten out of the shower, hair soaking wet and water dripping down his body. Sherlock would never be able to look that good. His body would never look like that. Quietly he got on a step stool to reach the very top shelf for a book to put away._

John smiled warmly at the girl, studying her for a long moment. She looked sweet, didn't she? Had a rather adorable voice. "Thanks," he nodded his head toward her before finding the poetry row. Lo and behold, there was his boyfriend. Stretched to reach the top shelf, his clothes hugging his body in the most amazing way. He rather liked that. Best not to interrupt him, though. The last thing he needed was Sherlock falling flat on his arse because John scared him. Instead he studied the books around him, brows furrowed curiously. Poetry wasn't particularly his area. It didn't make much sense to him at all. "D'you own all of the Poe books and the like?" He asked softly without taking his eyes off the books to his left.

_Sherlock knew John was there and he got back down once he was finished with putting the things away. "I'm not telling you that," he said simply. "You already got me plenty of birthday presents." The dog tags were still around his neck under his shirt. He smiled a little as he grabbed a few more and went back up again. "You're just going to buy the ones I don't have for me, which is something I don't want you to do." He owned all of them anyways but was more of a collector of things that he liked. And he liked that so he found nothing wrong with getting more than one copy of them. "If you hand me those last few books I'll officially be on my break and we can go out the back." That's where Sherlock would have a cigarette as he always did._

John looked up for a long moment, studying his boyfriend. "I can just get you presents, y'know. That's what boyfriends usually do." He grabbed the last few books Sherlock had mentioned and handed them off, still studying the books. "Any other favorite poets you have, then? Maybe I could get you another cat and you could name it after them." He was pacing the small aisle now, studying all of the titles and authors with genuine curiosity. "I'm going to buy you something whether you like it or not, Sherlock. I'm going to spoil you." He grinned and looked up at him, eyes bright and playful. It was time for his break which meant John could steal a kiss or two, something he'd been thinking about all day.

_Sherlock took the books and carefully put them away, shaking his head the whole time. "You don't have to get me presents," he said quietly. "And Poe wasn't wholly a poet. I admire him more for his short stories. And, if you have to know, I have a couple of other authors that I like." One modern and one more olden. "Now, come on, let's go out the back. I don't need another cat, though. I'm sure that Poe will kill it and bring the body of it to me." That cat was vicious at times and it only really liked Sherlock, but sometimes they had their bad days too. Sherlock knew John would follow as he started walking, going through the back door that was just for employees and pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes, hitting one end on his palm to shake them down._

John blindly followed his boyfriend, smiling softly before he spotted the cigarettes. Sherlock's dirty habit. He winced and moved away from his boyfriend for a moment, glancing around with a small sigh. "That Molly girl, she's the one who likes you?" He glanced at the other boy over his shoulder curiously, eyes traveling down the cigarette momentarily before his gaze locked on Sherlock's face. Bright eyes, an oddly angular face that was damn near the most handsome thing he'd ever seen. God, that was _his_. "Also, I'm not gonna kiss you until you stop tasting like a massive cigarette. You'll need to drink something before I snog you."

_Sherlock liked smoking. He knew the risks and accepted them as his own. He only had pulled one out hadn't lit it or put it in his mouth yet. "Yes, she likes me. She has since I've started working here." Since the first day. He would never be interested in her that way. "You should kiss me before I start smoking them. And it's just one cigarette. The taste will stay in my mouth for barely an hour." He put the rest of his pack in his back pocket, the lighter and single cigarette still between his fingers. "I'll drink a glass of water before you snog me if it makes you happy." He was a bit on edge from not having one. The most he lasted was a couple days without smoking._

Oh. Well, that was certainly an acceptable idea. John moved forward, standing on his toes to reach his boyfriend's lips. "I don't like the taste of cigarettes," he whispered before eagerly kissing Sherlock. The boy always tasted like something expensive but John couldn't put his finger on it. Was it possible to just taste like a posh bloke? Sherlock had mastered it, really. He easily wrapped his arms around the boy's narrow hips, pulling him closer as he slipped his tongue into his mouth. He was going to take full advantage of the kiss, taste Sherlock before he smoked, and leave the genius speechless.

_Sherlock was going to drop his cigarette, meaning he'd have to get another out. He kissed John back just as eagerly, allowing himself to be drawn closer. John's tongue was just as it had been last night and he accepted it just the same as before, running his own tongue over and around it. The only noise around them was that of the city and their own breathing and the messy noises of their kissing. He backed his body up a bit so he was leaning against the wall of the building. And he had dropped his cigarette onto the ground in a puddle from when it had rained a bit earlier._

The kiss was absolutely amazing. Sherlock's arms around him, the boy leaning against the building. Should he push him tighter against the wall? Without a second thought he did, moaning into his boyfriend's mouth as he pressed his body tightly against Sherlock's lithe form, essentially pinning him to the building as he wiggled his tongue and easily pushed it to the side. Right now he wanted to control this kiss, to show Sherlock how much he really cared for the boy. When it came time for him to actually breathe he pulled away, pressing his face into his boyfriend's neck and giving it soft kisses.

_John's body was warm against his, warmer than earlier and probably caused by the shower and his workout. Sherlock breathed deeply when John pulled away and began pressing his lips to his neck. God, he would be happy to just stay there. He was growing so attached to him. He gently pushed John away, saying, "That's enough until we get back to the flat." He felt like a schoolgirl with his blush, knowing that John made him feel good. It was idiotic how fast it had taken for them to get together. He pulled out his cigarette pack and fished out another, this time lighting up right away and taking a deep drag in. The almost minty tasting smoke curled in his lungs, their reaching ends touching everything. He politely turned his head away when he blew the smoke out._

John took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets before he ended up doing something that would push Sherlock too far. At least he got to do more once they got back to the flat. But he still had to run to the store and buy everything for the pizza, run to his flat to grab clothes and the like. "How long is your break?" He said with a soft smile, reaching a hand out to smooth out the boy's shirt. Molly probably knew they had something going on but he didn't want to make it obvious. Shoving it in her face would just be rude. At least the store was relatively close. If he planned it right he might even miss his Mum before she went out to her second job. "Need to get going, make your pizza and all that so I've got to time it right."

_"I've got about ten minutes left of my break." John had taken up a bit of it by kissing him. He wasn't complaining. Sherlock smiled a bit and ran his fingers through his hair before taking in another drag and exhaling it. He smiled at the now smooth shirt he was wearing. "You can go ahead and go, John. I'll see you back at the flat." This was the moment when he would have kissed John' lips but remembered he didn't like the taste of cigarettes. Instead he kissed the top of his head. "I'll see you when my shift is over then. And put bacon on all the pizza. You don't need a diet at all, John, no matter what you bloody think you need." He gave another kiss to the top of his head before there was another intake of the nicotine and a breath to get it out._

"It's not because I need to be on a diet," John stated softly, watching some of the smoke come from Sherlock's lips. "I do it to stay healthy, to take care of myself. I'll need to once I'm in the Army and it improves my game." He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "Enjoy the rest of work, yeah? Keep looking at that picture if you get lonely." With that he slipped through the back door, waved warmly at Molly, and jumped back in his car. The trip to his flat was quick, he'd managed to avoid a run in with everybody, and the shopping trip went even better. Things were on sale which meant he wasn't spending too much money to feed both of them. By the time he was back at the flat he was more than ready to lay down and take a quick nap but he needed to cook first. Sherlock's half of the pizza had everything he asked for, including the bacon. His pizza was modest at best, spinach and tomatoes, some basil sprinkled across it before he popped it in the oven and put the timer on. Then he sat back at the kitchen table, stretched out in a chair, and let his head fall back. No sleeping, just some relaxing before he had to do some homework.


	12. Chapter 12

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_John left and Sherlock finished up with the cigarette, dropping the butt in the water to hear it go out with a sizzle. He then went back inside and went back to working. The time was uneventful and he started glancing at the picture John had sent him. Damn that man. So long as it was on his phone it would be a distraction. He made a point to save it. The shift ended and Sherlock said goodbye to Molly with a hasty exit with his things from school with him. The walk wasn't too bad but it started raining again when he was a block away from the flat. Caught without an umbrella he just had to walk it back, knowing he'd be soaking and freezing. He opened the front door, locking it behind him, and went upstairs to the little portion he liked to call his. It was warm and smelled like cooking pizza. He smiled and dropped his things off by the door. "John," he called, "I'm going to be in my room to change." He was wet and cold._

"I'll get a towel and mop up after you," John muttered sleepily from the kitchen, slowly standing up. His body instantly protested to it. The day's rugby practice had certainly taken a toll. He stood up and yanked a dish towel from a lower cabinet, moving into the small hallway and clean up the obvious puddles his boyfriend had made after he came in. He tossed it on the floor in the living room right as the timer went off in the kitchen. He had a feeling Sherlock had timed it all perfectly in that wonderful head of his. That was probably the only explanation. He yanked it from the oven and cut it, dishing Sherlock's side out on to one plate and his side out on another. "Made it with low-fat cheese, all natural things. You'll really enjoy it!" He shouted back as he reached a hand down his sweatpants to scratch at his upper thigh.

_Sherlock went to his room, trying not to make too much of a mess but giving up quickly. Tonight was a night for the fire being lit and him doing homework and reading by it for a bit before he and John did anything more. He got his homework out so he could do it while eating. "You really are into these natural things," he yelled towards where John was as he slid into sweatpants and a bulky sweatshirt over him. Perfect. There were a few textbooks in his hand as he padded out in his socks to where the food would be. It looked and smelled great. He picked up his plate and carried it back to the living room, setting things down on the ground and bending over to turn on the fireplace, arse sticking out as he got it lit._

John turned, plate in hand, and nearly dropped his entire dinner. Right there, practically in his face, was Sherlock's arse. Small and perfect and... John averted his gaze and swallowed hard. No time to get a bloody hard on, Watson. It was clear his boyfriend was sitting down to do homework and, in all honesty, he should be doing the same. He set his plate down, casting another glance at Sherlock's prone form, and grabbed his book bag. The amount of homework he had was nothing compared to Sherlock's -- his classes would never be that hard -- but he did pull out a history textbook with a large sigh. Just reading for him tonight. He tossed a highlighter with it before plopping on to the floor without a care and taking a large bite of his pizza.

_Once the fire was up and going Sherlock sat down on the ground. He hadn't a clue that John had been just staring at his arse. He took a small bite from his pizza with a small smile. It was good. The food John made was always good, he was finding out. John just had that lucky ability about him that allowed him to cook good food that people seemed to enjoy. He started doing another section of math while eating slowly, chewing each bite fully before even thinking about swallowing. That night the math wasn't too hard so he finished quickly and was able to move onto his favorite class, working out the things he needed to very quickly. And with that he was finished for the night._

John had flipped through the pages with a bored sigh, occasionally highlighting parts that he thought were important and would be on the upcoming test. He was halfway done with the chapter when he'd noticed that Sherlock was done with his homework. By then, John was completely finished with his half of the pizza and still absolutely starving. His stomach alerted him to that fact with a loud rumble but he ignored it. "Good then? I watched you chewing all slow." He smiled and leaned back on his elbows, stretching out and wiggling his toes. "I could eat another whole pizza myself, I think. I'm famished," he muttered as he tilted his head and studied his boyfriend.

_"It was good," Sherlock answered, leaning against a part of the fireplace that wasn't open to the flame with a book against the bent knees. "You can have the rest of mine if you want." He'd had about a quarter of the pizza. For him that was pretty good eating while John had just shoveled it in. He was finding that it was something his boyfriend just seemed to do. He gave the man a smile before looking down at the book in his lap. It was worn from all the times he had read it, always finding a new light to it each time. "I'll be quiet," he said as he sunk into reading. "You go ahead and do your homework. I won't distract you." But he had a feeling that John would be distracting himself now._

John glanced at his book for a moment, checked the page number, and shut the book. "I can study later. I've got high marks in that class as it is," he muttered as he leaned forward, grabbed a slice of pizza, and took a massive bite. Delicious, as always. Sometimes he surprised himself. He patiently picked the bits of bacon off, dropping them on the plate before taking another bite. "I won't interrupt your reading, though. You look rather adorable reading, might I add." Another bite from the pizza, chewing slowly and even managing a smile around his food. "Focused, all that. Your face tells the whole story that you're reading."

_Subtly, he rolled his eyes at the comment of him being adorable when reading. Sherlock glanced up at John and saw the smile around the food. Sometimes John reminded him of some kind of animal. It was a fond reminder for him. He looked back down at the book, smiling at one of the sentences. "So what is it that I'm reading tonight if my face tells the story? I doubt that you'll get this one right." It was a book that practically no one had ever heard about. It was one that he had just happened to find and decided to read and had become a favorite._

"Something happy," John replied softly with a shrug. "But it's something that makes _you_ happy. People, when they read books, different things make them happy. So for you it probably isn't food or things people force you to do. I don't know the book or anything but it might be something like a person solving a crime, maybe a nice murder," the grin on his lips was soft now, eyes bright and curious as he continued to speak. "Or maybe it's something new that's recently sparked your interest. A kiss, a whirlwind romance that you're caught up in." He set the rest of the pizza down without a second glance at it, relaxing against his right arm as he studied his boyfriend.

_Sherlock started smiling as he listened to John try and figure out what it was, just spouting out words and assumptions of it. He figured he wasn't going to be reading anytime soon but the book stayed open. "I've read and reread it for a year or so now, just when I want a good read that I like. It's a memoir about a woman who became addicted to heroin, how she fell so deep that she resorted to prostitution." He shrugged and looked down at the book. "One of my favorites." Drugs had always been somewhat of an interest to him. The way they relieved so many pains, yet caused many more._

Well then. Way off the mark, apparently. John snorted and glanced at the book in Sherlock's lap. It certainly sounded interesting but nothing he would have randomly picked up. Probably one of the many perks of working at a bookstore, he figured. "I want to go to a bookstore, find a random book, and just give it to you," he whispered as he shifted to roll on his back and stretched with a small groan. His entire body protested slightly to the movement but he didn't care. He let out a small grunt as his eyes closed and he went limp against the floor. "Are you going to sleep tonight?" He asked softly, cracking an eye open to study his boyfriend curiously.

_"The title had sounded interesting." And how could it not? With the words ‘In My Skin’ written across the cover it had caught his eye. Sherlock found an inspiration in it from something inside himself. He knew the thinking was far too deep and meaningful for his own good. He smiled at the idea of being given a random book. "Make sure it's a good one before you do that." He marked his place and closed the book, setting it beside himself on the floor. "I'm going to try to sleep tonight. No promises on if I will or won't." He was still waiting for the snog John had said he would give. The taste of cigarettes were out of his mouth now. He leaned forward to press his lips to John's forehead._

John closed his eyes the moment he felt Sherlock's lips, arching his back slightly and craning his neck. "C'mere," he whispered as one hand moved to gently scratch at the back of the boy's neck. He gently met his lips, shifting on the floor so Sherlock would hopefully move to rest above him. The kiss was slow and held rush like the previous night. He was too tired for anything more than a slow kiss. Right now he was content to lay on his back and have Sherlock above him. The boy would probably figure something out and that made him more than excited. Snogging Sherlock and pinning him to floors and walls was one thing, having Sherlock do it to him made him positively giddy. 

_His movements were cautious as he got on top of John. He was unsure of what to do with his hands or how much pressure he could put on John. Sherlock felt lost in a sense as he tried to quickly figure all this out in the split second he had. Somehow he managed to do that; his legs straddled John's hips, his hands rested on John's chest, he put about half his body weight on John. And slowly he kissed him back, taking care to not move too fast or too slow. He really just wanted to figure this out as he currently was: using his brain and experimenting. The room was quickly filled with just the noises that their lips made when they were together._

For being a genius the other boy was certainly cautious and rather focused on learning everything. John smiled into the kiss and pulled away for a slight breath of air. "You won't break me," he whispered against his boyfriend's lips before kissing him again. More eager this time, his tongue roaming Sherlock's mouth. Behind his teeth, across the roof of his mouth, under his tongue. It was all so bloody fantastic and he couldn't get enough. Sherlock was like his new addiction and he wasn't ashamed in the slightest to take advantage of the fact that the boy had found a new-found hobby in snogging him.

_He took that as a sign to put more weight on him. And so he did. Sherlock put all of his weight on John, pressing into him as they kissed each other, exploring mouths. John liked to just figure things out it seemed. There was one spot in his mouth that made his eyes shoot open again and moan into John. It was around the back of his mouth, that's all he could gather. What the hell it was about he didn't get. His hands moved from John's chest to his sides, feeling the lean muscles lurking under the fabric of John's shirt. They were impressive and extremely good looking on the man, he had to admit._

Back of the mouth, behind the molars. John took an instant mental note as he moved his hand up into Sherlock's hair and gently scratched at his scalp. The hands on his side made him shiver slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips and going straight into Sherlock's mouth. He couldn't help it in the slightest because every touch his boyfriend made on his body made him want to arch up into him, moan and beg for more. Not tonight, though. It would be too much on his body. Another breath. Being snogged senseless by Sherlock Holmes was slowly proving to be one of his favorite things. "God, your mouth should be illegal," he gasped as he pulled away, dropping his mouth to place several soft kisses on the boy's pale neck.

_Sherlock smiled a bit when John pulled away, saying those words that just made him blush as those kisses trailed down his neck. He let his boyfriend kiss his neck for a bit before sitting himself up more so he was really straddling John. His hands went back to rest on John's chest as he caught his breath from their latest kissing session. "Let's stay away from my neck for a bit, remember? There are other places that you wanted to try out after all that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone." He felt a bit cautious on doing those; John would see him with very little clothing on, much less than anyone besides family had seen of him._

It was a bit hard to stay tired when Sherlock seemed to offering his body up so willingly. John was keen to lay and relax and snog his boyfriend until he was ready for bed but Sherlock -- calm, innocent, adorable Sherlock -- definitely had other plans. "Your sides?" He whispered as both of his hands moved slowly, untucking the boy's shirt from his trousers. "Nobody would see it there unless you're showing off your body to somebody else," he muttered as his hands finally hit the bare skin of Sherlock's torso. It was smooth and, despite how lanky Sherlock looked, there was certainly a bit of lean muscle on his frame. "That alright with you?" He asked as he held his boyfriend's gaze and let his hands skim gently up the boy's sides.

_John's hands were calloused from playing rugby. They moved up and down his smooth sides, caressing the skin with the soft touch. "I've got no one to show my body off to," he replied quietly. The hands continued to move up his sides. Sherlock already felt a zing of something rush up him. Perhaps nerves or maybe it was nothing. "That's alright with me." He met John's eyes, knowing that his said it was fine to continue, that he would say when enough was enough and they were going too far. He knew he was mad for doing this, but he was a teenager and could have those moments of idiocy that most had. Still nervous about John seeing his body and touching it more than he already had._

Something had definitely changed in his boyfriend from Friday. It could possibly be the fact that they were now dating but John was more than thankful for it. He smiled a bit and lifted his hands from under the boy's shirt, slowly undoing each button and marveling at the pale skin that was exposed. "Look at you," he whispered, lifting his head and sitting up the best he could to place soft kisses on the center of Sherlock's chest. It was hard to believe his boyfriend had been hiding this under shirts and coats and scarves because it was beautiful. And it was his. He pushed the shirt from his boyfriend's slender shoulders, not wasting any time in tilting his head, lifting up Sherlock's left arm, and eagerly attaching his mouth to the skin stretched over the boy's ribs.

_Lips touching his body on places other than his lips was odd, different. Sherlock was experimenting with his limits yet, trying to see how far he could push his own body out of its comfort zone and the routine that was oh so familiar and ingrained into his mind from years of using it. His shirt was off and his skinny body was exposed to John, who was now kissing and sucking on his side. It was odd how it felt but he couldn't say that it felt bad. He gripped softly onto John's shirt, feeling himself need something to hold onto. At this rate he was going to be done before it really started. He damned himself as he waited to see what would happen as John tried to find some place that would make him moan._

Tighter hands in the shirt but no moan, no gasp or shiver. John exhaled shakily from his nose and moved his lips just a tad higher, further back. The sensitive skin near the back of Sherlock's shoulder was soft, pale. There was a hint of lean muscle there. He opened his mouth and nipped at it, soothing it with his tongue before moving both of his hands to grip the boy's small hips. He sucked at the skin with a soft hum as he gently pulled Sherlock's hips, pulling him closer against his stomach. Sherlock would tell him if it was too much and now that he knew how amazing Sherlock looked he felt like he couldn't stop. That's when an idea rushed through his mind. He lifted a hand up, running his thumb over Sherlock right nipple with another hum against the boy's skin.

_There it was. A small chill went up his spine when John's lips reached the area around his shoulder. Sherlock was closer to John now, his body closer to his stomach with only his hands gripping at John's shirt keeping them away from being completely pressed together. John's rough thumb went over his nipple and another lightning strike of electricity went through his body, making goosebumps appear on his skin and his nipples hardened. He couldn't help a small gasp slip out at the feeling. Sherlock gripped the shirt tighter yet, wrinkling it in his hands. He could feel himself slowly working up to that point of overstimulation just from those simple movements so he murmured, "Slow down a bit."_

Words. _Slow down_. John dropped his hand and then pulled his mouth away. Nipples. Right below the shoulder near Sherlock's armpit. John took every mental note before lifted his head and meeting his boyfriend's gaze. His own cheeks were flushed, lips red as he sheepishly smiled at the boy who was still straddling him. "Sorry," he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock uncomfortable. "Found some new spots, though." He blushed a bit at the statement as he lifted a hand to run through his boyfriend's unruly hair. "You look... bloody fantastic, though, Sherlock."

_Sherlock released the shirt, smoothing it down gently. He felt suddenly self conscious about being shirtless in front of someone and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's fine," he said quietly, smiling slightly down at John. The hand through his hair calmed him down a bit. He smiled slightly at his boyfriend before flushing at the words. "I'm not fantastic," he said, turning so he could reach back and grab his shirt to pull back on, ruffling up his hair so it wouldn’t look so flattened. He leaned down and pecked John's cheek then got off of him._

Oh. It suddenly all hit John that Sherlock was self-conscious about his body. But... why? It was lean, perfect. He knew people that would kill for his frame. "You are fantastic," John stated seriously, all hint of playfulness in his voice gone. "I mean that. Completely." He watched as Sherlock got off of him and moved to lean back on his elbows. "You're absolutely amazing. All of you. Your mind, your face, your body, personality," he paused and shrugged. "And I'm going to think that forever. You can't tell me not to." He licked his lips and paused, wiggling his toes to try and get them warm again.

_"You're not going to think that forever," Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm just me, John. Nothing more than that." He just wanted to be himself. He didn't meet John's eyes as he opened up his book to continue reading on about a woman discovering herself. The fire going in the room made it nice and warm, a comfortable space for all of them. He moved so he was laying on his stomach while reading, his knees bent and heels resting gently on his bum. Instead of doing this he knew he should be cleaning his room, making it look nicer for John since they were sleeping in there together that night. Who would have thought that Sherlock would be sleeping next to someone in his life._

So apparently Sherlock didn't believe him. At all. John shifted slightly and just watched him, not wanting to interrupt his reading. "I will, though," he said softly as he moved to his feet. "I'm going to think that as long as I want, which I think is forever. Don't tell me what I will and won't think." He muttered as he curled his toes and moved closer to the fire. Now he was silent, watching the flames intently. What had he done? He'd done what Sherlock had asked and then... and then he'd been asked to stop. God, he felt horrible now. Had he ruined their entire night?

_Sherlock knew his mood swings were unpredictable and could leave the most calm person confused and perhaps upset. And he knew that he had done that to John from the way he stared into the fire, obviously trying to figure something out. He knew he ruined everything. After a hard swallow he looked up to the man who was so willing to be his boyfriend and knew he had to tell him, had to let him know why he acted certain ways. Another deep breath in and then out. This was only fair and he knew John would have told him something like this. "I have Asperger's syndrome," he finally muttered; just as anyone else with a condition would disclose it to a partner, he ought to do the same for John._

John's head turned to look at Sherlock, face calm as he studied the other boy. Asperger's syndrome. They'd learned about it the previous year and John had a slight understanding of it. Difficulties in social interaction, a need have have a set schedule and to keep all of his behaviors repetitive. "All right," he finally stated as everything clicked for him. The slight mood swings, suddenly wanting John and then not. It all made sense. "I'm glad you told me, then, but I don't see you as some person with a disease. I mean, granted, I'll have to work with it, live with it, but I'm not going to let it rule our relationship. At all." He nodded and bit his bottom lip. "Tell me about it. Y'know, certain things that I'll need to know about you. I want to know more."

_John seemed fine with it, or at least he wanted to know as much as he could. That was a good sign. "In new situations I can get overstimulated," he started softly, "I can rock myself back and forth or flap my hands, but I’m working on keeping myself from doing that." They were all very embarrassing and since he'd never gone to a therapist to get them under control it was all up to him to figure out ways to make himself stop doing things. "I don't need to have a hugely strict schedule; I can move off the path of a routine and adjust but certain things to adjust to are harder than others. I tend to think and speak literally, though I can pick up quickly on changes. I don't do well with people. I can talk too fast sometimes and I talk to myself a lot and don't notice if people are listening or not. High pitched noises make me want to scream. There are some things I'm obsessed with, as the people who diagnosed me would put it." Sherlock glanced up at John once he felt he had covered all the bases._

John took it all in, nodding when appropriate as Sherlock explained things to him. "If that was meant to scare me off it failed," he commented with a soft smile, tilting his head so has neck would pop. "I'm ready to handle whatever you go through, I'll make sure to not make high pitched noises," he scooted closer to his boyfriend and reached out to gently massage his shoulder. "So you just keep telling me what you like and don't like, I'll keep listening to you, and we'll work around whatever we need to." There. It was good enough, he figured, because he didn't really know what to say. It was clear Sherlock struggled a bit with the issue of his problem but John liked every little thing about him.

_"I didn't want to scare you off." That was the last thing he wanted. It was a fact that he was growing attached to John, far more attached to him than anyone before, after only a weekend. Sherlock closed his eyes as John began to massage one of his now tense shoulders. "I'll keep telling you, then." He looked over at his boyfriend then leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, John," he said in a quiet voice. "Thank you." He was being sincere with the man, wanting to have a real relationship with him. Sherlock again kissed him before saying, "Do you want to come and help me tidy up my room a bit? We can lay around in my bed after we're done." He guessed that John would like that idea._

John easily returned the several soft kisses, smiling gently at the offer of just laying in bed. After the day's rugby practice he could use a nice, relaxing bed. "Yeah, let's do that." Although he wasn't sure what exactly would need to be picked up. A few books on the bed, he figured. "What're we gonna be moving?" He asked curiously as he slowly got to his feet, offering a hand to his boyfriend as he flashed the boy a charming smile. Right now he couldn't imagine a better night than one spent curled into Sherlock's side and whispering things to him. "Don't be surprised if I fall asleep," he added with a soft laugh.

_Sherlock took the hand and stood up. "We're going to be moving Poe, some books, and clothes." Poe was the tricky one. He hadn't seen the cat all day and wasn't too sure if she was in a good mood or not. He took John's hand and led him off to the bedroom, flipping on a switch. There was the large pile of clean clothes in the middle of his room, stacks of books all around, and then the messy and well slept in bed from last night. He glanced over at John. "Want to help me get Poe out of the bed first?" He wasn't very sure if John and him were going to do anything tonight, after all their snogging session had turned into far more the night before, and did want to be prepared. Therefore no cat tonight._

John tensed the moment he saw the cat, biting his bottom lip. "Y'know, I fancy the idea of sleeping in your bed and all but your cat," he paused with a small shake of his head and a huff of a laugh. "That thing is literally going to claw my face off, 'M not kidding." He glanced at his boyfriend, eyes wide and nervous. That thing was going to kill him. He slid slowly on to the bed, holding his hand out palm up for the cat to sniff. Maybe if he was calm and smooth it would not bite him. "Couldn't we just leave her? She's just... laying there. She just wants to sleep, too," he mumbled to himself as he pressed one of his fingers against her nose.

_Sherlock and Poe were a lot alike; they both only liked a select choice of people and were vicious to all others. He walked over to John and sat beside him on the bed. "Do you really want to run the risk of stumbling across her on the bed at night?" He watched as Poe started hissing and used her paw to bat John's hand away, showing her teeth as a warning. "She can sleep by the fire." Even Sherlock was semi-cautious as he reached out to Poe. She was still hissing as if she was cornered and fighting for her life. "You just have to find the right way to be around her," he murmured, smiling a little as he calmly picked her up. She didn't hiss or scratch at him, merely gave a glare then a soft meow. Once on the ground she scurried out of the room. "See?"_

Bloody cat. John flopped back on the bed dramatically and huffed, rubbing at his eyes with a small growl. "I imagine that if I rolled over her in the middle of the night she'd actually kill me. You'd have to clean up all my blood because of a murderous cat." He shifted slightly and turned his head on the bed, studying Sherlock with a lazy smile. "So... books and clothes?" He muttered as he smiled charmingly at his boyfriend. He was more excited to sleep, wake up to Sherlock smiling at him. Maybe he'd wake up just a bit easier. "I just want to snuggle with you."

_Sherlock already was clearing those things off the bed when it was mentioned. "She wouldn't. She doesn't like people she doesn't know. You just have to try harder to get on her good side. Feeding her does wonders. I'll be there in a second," he said. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, tossing it down somewhere that he knew he’d pick up the next day to pull on again. Quickly, he pulled down the shirt that had been pulled up, then got in bed on his usual side, closest to his nightstand. "Now we can snuggle." Whatever that meant._

John pulled his shirt over his head, stretching as his pajama pants moved lower on to his hips. The moment Sherlock was on the bed he moved and curled into the boy's side, not even caring that he had yet to actually lay down. His face was pressed into Sherlock's ribs, eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. All he wanted to do was lay here, talk with Sherlock, and stay curled tightly against his side. "What's it like? I mean, things that set you off," he whispered as he glanced up at his boyfriend's face. "What does it feel like? And d'you know all of your triggers?"

_Slowly he looked up at John, taking a deep breath in for a few moments. He really didn't want to think about his triggers, but John had asked him a question that would be good to know for their relationship. "It just feels like a huge band of red goes across my vision and that I'm not in my body anymore." It was quite scary being out of control, yelling and screaming and lashing out. "It's hard to describe what gets to me. It's usually just a whole lot of things that pile up inside of me then the last thing just finally makes me snap. Last time I had a huge meltdown in public was before I moved here. I know how to control my outbursts now."_

John moved one arm to rest across Sherlock's stomach, looking up at him curiously. "Well then talk to me, yeah?" He offered as he rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I mean, if you tell me then maybe it won't pile up like that." It sounded like quite the perfect idea to him, especially if he was going to be living in the flat. Hell, he hadn't even moved into his room yet and was more content sleeping in the same bed as Sherlock. The more often that happened the more they would talk. "I'm going to try and prevent things like that around the flat for you. I think it's good that you tell me what you can and can't handle. Good start, at least."

_For most people with Asperger's it was relatively easy to tell that something was bothering them. That went the same with Sherlock; no change in facial expressions or tone, unless it was some kind of subtle quirk. It didn't register. "It's just hard, John.” He stopped himself from continuing and shook his head. "I'll tell you when something bothers me, alright?" That was the most that he could promise. When he got set off, it was too late. No one could stop a meltdown until his brain decided that it was time to start acting like a seventeen year old again. He laid his head on the pillow he usually used, closing his eyes. "How about we not talk about that? I don’t want to."_

"I can do that," John whispered as he let his own eyes close. The even rise and fall of Sherlock's chest was so calming and it was easily making him fall asleep. God, he could get used to this which might pose quite the problem. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep here every night and starting to get used to it would only lead to sleepless nights when he was alone in his bed upstairs. "Then I'm just going to tell you how wonderful this is. I've never done this before," he whispered with a content smile. Snuggling wasn't something he was able to do much and Sherlock was rather still. An expert snuggler, in his opinion.

_Sherlock smiled at the words as well. He'd never done this either. And here he was being called good. He moved slightly to turn on his alarm and turn the light off so if John fell asleep against him it wouldn't be a big deal. He doubted he'd fall asleep like John would be. It wasn't so easy for him to get used to things on the drop of a hat; it would take him about three to five times to get used to John sleeping next to him, more like right up against him. He pressed his lips to John's temple before closing his eyes and trying to will himself to a state of sleep._


	13. Chapter 13

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

Lights off. Kiss on his temple. John smiled warmly and shifted slightly to pull the blanket over both of them. He held the boy just a bit closer and opened his eyes. He needed to say one last thing before he fell asleep, needed Sherlock to know something. If he fell asleep before he said it then he certainly wouldn't remember it the next day. "Thank you for changing my life in just four days," he murmured tiredly, his hand shifting slightly over the boy's stomach before he relaxed completely next his boyfriend. "Thanks," he repeated through a yawn before he eventually fell asleep.

_The words made him smile and feel really good about himself. Sherlock was sitting there in the dark with John resting completely against him. It was enough to make anyone smile. His hands fluttered excitedly on John's back before he made that whole bit stop. He slipped in and out of sleep through the night, conscious and thinking for most of it. He had problems turning of his mind when it came time to do that. When he slipped into a deep sleep his alarm went off. His body didn't even move at the loudness of it like it would have done._

The moment Sherlock's alarm went off John groaned and pressed his face into his boyfriend's side, pulling the blanket completely over his head. He didn't want to wake up at all. Laying in bed all day and staying pressed against Sherlock's side sounded more amazing. Except... Sherlock wasn't really moving, was he? Didn't he have a strict schedule that he kept every morning before school? He moved and reached over his boyfriend's small frame, turning the alarm off with a small grunt. "Sherlo', 's time to wake up," he whispered as he blearily opened his eyes and forced himself to focus on the boy's face.

_Sherlock heard his name and barely opened his eyes. He had slept through the alarm while John hadn't. He closed his eyes for a second before stretching like a cat, feeling his back pop a couple of times. It was obvious that he had gotten to sleep a few minutes before his alarm. "'M up," he mumbled, making himself sit up. This already was shaping out to be a bad day. He made himself get out of the bed, going towards his closet to pick out clothes to wear for that day. One hand tapped at his side in a random rhythm after getting out the clothes._

John sat up and stretched himself before studying Sherlock intently. "D'you... Sherlock, why don't you get back in bed? I can call us in. We can miss a day. You need some sleep." He reached across the bed and grabbed his boyfriend's mobile. "You haven't miss a day of school all year and I feel horrid for you not getting enough sleep." He slid out of bed, goosebumps spreading across the skin on his torso. "C'mere," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck. Taking care of Sherlock was rather important to him.

_Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head as he was kissed and the arms went around his waist. "I'm fine, John. I've gone to school with less sleep than this." He had to turn in homework and get homework, not to mention a lab they were doing in Chemistry that day. The thought of missing out on those things made him feel fluttery and nervous. He put his hands on John's and leaned back against him slightly. "I'm really fine. I don't need to stay here from school and sleep all day." The room was cold and he wanted to climb back in bed and curl up there. But now that he was up he didn't think he could do that._

John took a deep breath and nodded slightly in understanding. Missing one day of secondary school was sometimes a death sentence and with Sherlock's course load the boy would certainly be way too far behind. "What if I went to school real fast and got it all for you? Talked to all your professors, got all the work, and then we sat here in bed and did it together once you got enough sleep?" Granted, he would have to leave in the afternoon for rugby practice but that wouldn't be a problem. By then he figured Sherlock might be too engrossed in his homework to even care. "I can do that for you. I just don't want you to go through the day with literally no sleep."

_Before this Sherlock would have just gone to school and sucked up the lack of sleep. But with John offering to go up to school and get the homework and things he needed. It was sweet. It was something he'd have to pay back. "Sure," he quietly said. He moved away going to find a piece of paper. On it he wrote down the teacher's names he had as well as the room numbers they were in and his locker in case there were any extra books he needed. He handed it to John with a tired and lingering kiss. "Thank you." Another kiss after those words before he went back to his bed, laying down on it with a quiet sigh of appreciation. "There are some keys on my nightstand. They're the ones that will let you into the flat since it'll be locked up."_

John smiled into both of the kisses before taking all of the information in. Keys. Teachers. Books. "Right, not a problem," he moved forward and grabbed the keys from the nightstand, watching Sherlock with a smile. "Now sleep. I'll be back soon." With that he was off, dressing and leaving the flat. It was rather simple to get all of the work, most of the teachers smiling warmly and completely agreeing to help Sherlock out. Once he had all of the homework, instructions, and even some surprises for his boyfriend. He got back to the flat with a wide smile on his face, moving everything on to the couch before quietly moving into the bedroom to check on Sherlock.

_Sherlock heard John leave the flat, the door closing behind him. The silence of the place settled around him. He laid in the bed, on his side at that, with barely opened eyes. Within seconds he was asleep. He relaxed there, sprawling out and twisting his clothes all around his body. Poe was up and wandering around, find the routine change odd and not liking it. She got up onto the bed and curled up next to Sherlock's head, purring quietly to get some wanted attention. The teen buried into the covers instead, them twisting around him like his clothes. The sweats he was wearing were half off his bum by now. Then he heard faintly through the sleep the door open when someone got back. Again no move was made as he found himself slipping deeper into sleep._

Definitely asleep. John smiled at his boyfriend and opted to not bother him, moving into the kitchen and making himself a pot of coffee. A day off would be nice, even if it was just Tuesday. Hell, the rugby team didn't have a team for another two and a half weeks and he could definitely cancel practice for the day. Once the coffee was done he made his mug, moving toward the couch with a sigh. No cat which meant she was in the bedroom with Sherlock. He got all of his homework out with a sigh and started working through it, managing to finish History by the time an episode of Doctor Who came on the telly.

_There were odd noises coming from his living room. It was loud and the intones annoying, not to mention higher than he liked. Sherlock let out a loud groan and put a pillow over his head. Fuck. Why did it have to be so annoying? He didn't like whatever John was watching from the noise level. He was now up. Quietly he looked at Poe, who was quickly scampering out of the room from being startled by his sudden noise. But other than the groan he showed no other signs of annoyance. The clothes he had gotten out earlier were retrieved and he started going towards the bathroom to get dressed since he had work later._

Sherlock was moving and awake. John cringed and turned the telly down, glancing at his mobile to check the time. Sherlock had gotten and extra three hours of sleep but now he felt guilty. He ended up muting the telly, standing up and pouring Sherlock a mug of coffee and setting it on the counter for him. He watched the cat trot by him before moving back into the living room. "I woke him up, didn't I?" He said softly to the cat, biting his bottom lip with a sigh. Would that set something off for Sherlock? Upset him and make something go wrong? He shook his head to try and stop over-thinking all of it.

_He took a quick shower, washing his hair and body, then got out. It was an easy routine, going through it was a calming factor from his two rude awakenings for that morning. Sherlock dressed in his posh clothes, making sure they looked pristine, then sprayed a few squirts of his usual cologne on him. He reminded himself to shave before work, he was getting a bit scruffy now. When he exited the bathroom, walking into the kitchen, he saw the cup of coffee and gratefully took it. It was exactly what he needed. As he walked into the living room he took a long drink from it then went to sit in his chair. "Good morning."_

John looked up, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Morning," he whispered with a small smile. "I, uh, I didn't mean to wake you up at all," he mumbled with a small blush. He'd convinced Sherlock to stay home from school and then ended up waking him up anyway. He was acting like quite the little wanker, wasn't he? Which hadn't been the intention at all. He stood up from the couch and moved to the chair across from Sherlock's, curling into it eagerly. "Got all your homework. Your chemistry teacher just gave you a high mark on the assignment because he said you'd talked about doing it before on your own. Bit of good news there."

_Sherlock shook his head a bit at the apology. "It's fine." But the apology was still nice to hear, nice to know that it wasn't a thing done on purpose. He took another long drink from the mug John had gotten for him and listened to the homework. "That's good," he said, knowing that he had done it before out of pure boredom one night. "Anything else?" He saw the amount of stuff he had to do. He knew he should get started on it right away so he wouldn't have to worry about it too much before work and after it. Today was going to be a resting day hopefully._

"Just some reading for your English class, she said you probably already had it done but I wrote it down anyway. Something like twelve problems for maths, should be simple for you. That's it," John stated with a small nod, grinning at the boy sitting across from him. With the posh clothes and the coffee and looked more than irresistible and he was content to just sit and study his boyfriend. Lean, angular frame and rather amazing eyes. "D'you need some more coffee?" He asked softly, his own mug now empty. "I can heat you something up to eat, as well."

_The homework sounded simple enough. He really just had to do math and he was finished for the day. Sherlock smiled to himself, feeling a bit happy over the idea of getting done with homework early in the day. He nodded his head a bit, holding out the mug to John. "I'd like a bit more coffee and something small to eat." His stomach was still full from the pizza John had made the night before. "Maybe a piece of the apple cake." He already was reaching for his maths book so he could do the homework assigned to him. "You have something as well, alright? Don't want you starving."_

John smiled warmly and took his boyfriend's mug, moving into the kitchen with ease. "Of course," he stated with a soft laugh, shifting a bit around the small space to get everything together. He grabbed himself an apple and put a slice of apple cake on a plate. He poured them each another mug of coffee before moving back into the living room. Something had been bugging him all morning and now seemed like the perfect time to ask. "Did you not sleep last night because of me?" He asked softly as he handed the plate of apple cake to his boyfriend and set the mug down on the small table to the left of Sherlock.

_The problems were simple for the difficulty of the class. He was already finished with two when John came back with his food and coffee. But a question came up that made him open his mouth out of shock. "Yes," he said, but added things in quickly. "It takes me a while to get used to things, usually about three to five times. It's a change, you know?" But he had a feeling that the man didn't really get it. He sighed and shook his head a little. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm used to having sleepless nights. It took me ages to get used to having a cat sleeping next to me." Now he felt like he was rambling and not making sense. There was no eye contact between he and John now as he took a bite from the cake._

John took in the entire situation and sat down in the chair across from Sherlock, smiling a bit. "Well I'm glad that it's simply because it was a change," he said softly, taking a small sip from his mug and simply studying the apple in his hand. "If you don't want to sleep in the same bed again tonight so you can actually sleep it won't be a problem. I'm just worried about school and all that. I don't want to make anything worse." A small nod shook his head as he sat back in his chair, finally taking a bite of his breakfast. If Sherlock really wanted to sleep in the same bed again then he would certainly do that but he would probably not snuggle as close to him, keep to his own side of the bed so he wasn't such a distraction.

_"I'm fine with sleeping in the same bed," Sherlock said, beginning to do his homework again with his gaze going from John to the paper he was writing on. He chewed the rest of the piece up slowly and stretched out, feeling his back pop again. "I just have to get used to it. I could have gone to school today, running on what energy I had gotten." He was now four problems in, working on the fifth. He wanted to change the subject that they were going over now, finish talking about their little problem with sleep. "What do you want to do today? We have a lot of time on our hands before work and rugby practice."_

How did he want to spend the rest of their day? He was keen on maybe going to bed before practice but it seemed like Sherlock definitely wanted to do something. "Well, I'll wait for you to finish your homework, definitely," he smiled and took another bite of his apple. There wasn't much to do, really. Maybe they could walk the streets for a bit. "Fancy a bit of a trip downtown?" He asked softly, taking a slow sip of coffee and studying his boyfriend over the rim. "We could go to shops, walk around and look at everything. A proper date." He grinned and shifted slightly in his seat. "I've gotta pick some things up downtown as it is."

_Sherlock smiled a bit. A proper date. He liked that idea. He looked up at John, setting his pencil down on the paper as he looked at the man sitting across from him with an apple. "I'd like that a lot." Downtown, walking with John as they talked about who knew what and looking around at things. "What do you need to pick up from downtown? Is that where your flat is?" It occurred to him that he had never gone there, never even seen the inside of it. How many people could say that about someone who they were in a relationship with? He could. But he needed to focus on the good, the positive parts. Such as going out with his boyfriend somewhere nice. "I want to take a bath before going out." The noises of the city could be a bit much sometimes._

John blushed and dropped his head to intently study his apple. Suddenly it was more important than thinking about everything he needed to do. "Um, yeah, we're dropping by there," he muttered with a fractional nod of his head. "And I've got to drop by the Army shop near the base to pick up some of the uniforms they've finished for me." There. It was all out now. He couldn't even fathom trying to tell his boyfriend about the fact that his Mum was probably going to be home and explaining everything. She would probably love Sherlock the moment he walked in the door and tell John she was so happy he finally found somebody, male or female, and then try to get them to stay. Maybe he could debrief his boyfriend on the walk there instead of right now. "Go take your bath," he whispered with a smile. "I'll be right here when you get out and smell like your posh soap and all that." He grinned happily and finished off his second mug of coffee.

_Sherlock smiled a bit. John's flat and... a place to get his uniform for the army. That ugly fact just seemed to keep coming up even though he didn't want to think about it now that he was attached to the man. He didn't want the man to go. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again to look up at the man. "Let me finish my breakfast and homework then I'll take my bath." He took a bite of his cake then a swallow of coffee before going back to the math problems, occasionally flipping to the examples to see how they were done. He finished off the problems and tossed the book to his backpack before standing up. "I'll be out in an hour or so. If I'm not out by then come in and wake me up." He had a bad habit of falling asleep in the warm water. It relaxed him so much. Within a few moments he had disappeared to the bathroom._

Wait. What? John turned to ask Sherlock if he really wanted him to come fetch him from the bath but the younger man was already gone. That would mean that his boyfriend would be naked. Sure, they'd snogged and gotten each other off but they'd remained clothed from the hips down. Going into the bathroom would mean... John glanced down the hall toward the bathroom with a shaky sigh. If Sherlock said it then he must be comfortable with the idea of John seeing him like that. He stood up from his chair, putting his coffee mug in the sink in the kitchen before moving toward the trash can and getting rid of his apple core. Most of his homework was done and he was already dressed so there wasn't much for him to do. He sighed and stretched out on the couch, studying Poe intently as she slept in front of the fireplace. 

_In the bathtub Sherlock closed the curtain around him. He wasn't going to let John see him naked. He started the bathwater, making sure it was nice and warm for himself, then climbed in. His clothes were put in a neat pile of the bathroom on the ground as he just relaxed in the water. If the curtain was closed he hoped John would get the idea and not open it. Or he wouldn't get the hint and would see him completely naked. He breathed out slowly before slipping lower in the water, his eyes closing. He sunk into thought and felt himself smiling as he did so. This was nice, having a day off. He might have to do this more often despite that rude awakening._


	14. Chapter 14

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

An hour passed easily and that made John warily eye the door to the bathroom. He didn't want to go and disturb his boyfriend because that hadn't ended too well earlier when he'd had the telly on. Except this time Sherlock had asked him to actually wake him up. He stood slowly, licking his lips and letting out a soft sigh. Nothing would go wrong and, Hell, maybe this was Sherlock's way of letting John know he was ready for a bit more. All of this thoughts were racing by the time he opened the door and -- Oh. Shower curtain. A mix of relief and disappointment rushed through his body at the sight. Of course he was just a little disappointed because the idea of seeing Sherlock completely wasn't a terribly horrible one. Relief, though, because he was slowly figuring out that his boyfriend wasn't exactly proud to show off what he looked like without clothes. "Uh, Sherlock," he whispered, clearing his throat. "It's been an hour."

_John's voice floated through to his mind, pulling him of a sleep. The voice was soft and nothing too much. He breathed out slowly and sat up in the water before sticking his head out the curtain to look at John. "Alright, I'll get out," he murmured. He took out the plug and the water started down the drain while he stood, reaching a hand out to grab his towel, and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out completely. There were still the bruises from the bullies but they were fading away as usual but the more recent ones were the ones that John left. They dotted his neck still and now the parts of his chest that John had gotten to before he had told him to stop. "Give me a kiss before leaving," he requested, wanting to show that there really was no hard feelings between them._

Kiss? It felt like John had short-circuited completely, trying to figure out everything going on around him. Bruises on Sherlock's body, ones that weren't his and certainly weren't made in moments of slight passion. Sherlock's bare skin, bare chest... and the fact that his boyfriend wanted a kiss. He licked his lips and exhaled shakily, taking several steps forward, his feet slow as he tried to make himself focus. Those bruises made his blood run cold and he wanted to kiss all of them, make them go away and show that nobody would ever hurt him again. He held the younger man's gaze for a long moment before leaned forward and gently meeting Sherlock's lips, deepening the kiss instantly. One hand moved possessively over one of the bruises and massaged it softly.

_It wasn't long until Sherlock was kissing John, their bodies together. His chest was dampening John's shirt and his body was definitely sandwiched to John's when the hand began massaging one of his bruises. It was a much more seductive thing than he thought it would have been. He continued to kiss John, allowing the kiss to grow deeper than it probably should have been for their point in the relationship. Was he ready to take the next step? As he pulled away slightly to kiss down John's jaw he knew the answer was yes. John had about all his trust and he knew nothing would be a regret for the two of them. He pulled his lips away to look down at him, not really finding anymore words to say._

The kisses on the jaw were definitely new and John let out a soft moan, the hand on Sherlock's body freezing for a moment. That had been more than wonderful but it soon stopped. He opened his eyes and smiled softly, easily finding another bruise and gently massaging it. "If you do this they'll go away faster," he said softly. Aside from that it was a way to touch his boyfriend in an area that he was so dead-set on hiding from the world. The trust in the moment was not passed over and John felt his chest swell with happiness. Sherlock trust him enough to snog him fresh from the bath, towel around his hips, and didn't step back from his hand. "Think I'll need to go change before we leave," he added with a soft laugh.

_Sherlock leaned his head down to rest it on John's shoulders as another bruise was found to touch, this one feeling a bit lower down than before. He didn't stop him. "Can we leave a bit later," he questioned, pressing his lips to John's neck in soft but lingering kisses. He was acting in the moment, going off of what he wanted in that space of time. And what he wanted was John. It didn't seem to be getting through totally to the other teen but he didn't let that bother him. He pulled his head up and kissed John’s lips again, moving himself the few centimeters closer so their bodies were almost completely connected. He found himself smiling against those lips. He felt happy doing this, freer than he usually was when trapped inside himself._

All of this with Sherlock was brand new but John couldn't find any room to complain at all. He eagerly returned the kiss, pressing his body against Sherlock's with a soft, breathy moan into the boy's mouth. Something had changed, he knew that much. He was allowed to touch more, touch lower, and his neck was still tingling from where his boyfriend's lips had been moments before. There was the slight quirk of lips he felt but he easily ignored it as he let his tongue explore Sherlock's mouth, his hands moving to rest gently on his boyfriend's hips. Of course they could leave later if this is what he would get. He had no problem with that in the slightest. One hand moved to Sherlock's lower back, starting to drift lower to grab Sherlock's arse, as he sucked at the boy's bottom lip.

_They were kissing, John's hand on his arse -- he couldn't deny that he had squeaked when John had done that -- and sucking on his bottom lip in a way that was sure to make it swell. He moved his hands to run over John's back, feeling the strong muscles there that had been developed over time and careful practice to tone and keep them in good shape, not to mention the diets he put himself on that restricted sugars and fats. Sherlock, as he returned the deep kiss by sliding his own tongue into John's mouth to do some exploring of his own, felt his towel becoming looser around his waist from the moving of their bodies. Where he had tucked it in was coming undone. He could feel it settling a bit lower on his thin hips._

Loose towel and, God, Sherlock hadn't moved to do a thing about it. John pulled Sherlock closer, his right hand easily squeezing the boy's arse, kneading it slightly. If it was allowed to be there then he wasn't going to move it. He moaned into his boyfriend's mouth, loud enough to still echo slightly in the bathroom, and moved his free hand between them with ease. After several moments of fumbling he found where the towel had originally been tucked in and grabbed it, holding it together with ease. The last thing he needed was it falling down and ruining the entire moment. He hardly thought Sherlock would be ready to stand in front of him naked while he was completely clothed. He sucked at Sherlock's tongue and slowly let his boyfriend take control of the kiss.

_John was holding up his towel. Oh hell. Sherlock really didn't know what to do now. John either could let it drop or keep holding onto it so he was completely naked. He wouldn't like that at all. John was still completely dressed after all, which wouldn't be fair at all in his opinion. He could feel John allowing him to take control of the kiss and he felt lost for a moment before just doing what John did to lead the way. His head tilted to the side, creating a deeper kiss. His hands went back up John's spine, one cupping the back of John's neck and the other tangling into the blonde hair. Their kiss carried on until Sherlock needed to breathe. During that time the hand on John's neck had moved to untuck John's shirt from his trousers. He felt odd doing so and his eyes were wide when he pulled away._

The moment John could gasp for breath he could, cheeks flushed and lips extremely red as he met Sherlock's gaze. In the heat of the kiss his boyfriend had untucked his shirt and he couldn't help the slightly giggle that escaped his lips. Certainly a bit excited to get under his shirt, wasn't he? Then again, it wasn't like Sherlock hadn't seen him without a shirt before. "I, uh," he cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the towel with a small, sheepish smile. "Didn't want it to fall so I held on to it for you," he said softly, his other hand gently squeezing the boy's arse again. It was there, he couldn't help it. A whole new part of Sherlock to touch and explore. He wanted to ask where that had all come from but he decided to lower his head and start sucking gently at the skin stretched across Sherlock's collarbone.

_John really liked his arse it seemed; it was the part of his body that had the most muscle to it, so there was a bit more for the man to grab onto. That much he understood of it. He moved his hands from John to take the towel so he could tuck it back in correctly. John was sucking on his collarbone in the next moment. Turned out that that place made him feel about the same that his neck did. The skin there was just a bundle of nerve endings. He could feel himself blushing as he moaned, trying to keep it subdued and quiet. His cheeks heated and so did parts of his chest, which was usual. He pulled away slightly to ask, "Should we go somewhere else than stand here?" Did John get what he might want to do today?_

Everything hit him at once, eyes wide as he pulled back from the boy's collarbone and studied Sherlock. Was he looking too into it? Sherlock had asked about leaving a little later before they'd snogged and now he wanted to move. Did he asked if he was being pushed into it? Maybe if he just followed after his boyfriend, did as he asked, he wouldn't feel pushed into all of it. That was if John was reading everything right. Now he was just nervous that he was drawing his own conclusions. Hell, he'd bought lube and condoms at the store when he'd gone shopping for the pizza ingredients. Wishful thinking, he knew, but maybe it was going to pay off. "Sure," he finally whispered, cheeks flushed a deep red. "I... are we going to...?"

_His stomach was flip-flopping as he saw John figure it out. There was that look of realization that made his eyes widen slightly in a manner that left him looking almost shocked. Then there was the flushed cheeks as he really thought about it, obviously recalling something. Had Sherlock made a mistake? Did John really not want to? There was always that possibility that he had read all what John wanted wrong. John's voice was even soft. Was a rejection going to come next? He could feel himself turning pinker as he desperately tried to keep control of the situation and figure out what was going on, what the social norms of this were. "Do you want to," he finally asked, his own voice quiet as well._

Did he want to? John, like any other eighteen year old male, almost immediately answered yes. Except this was Sherlock. A virgin, his boyfriend of nearly three days... And he didn't want to ruin any of what they had going. Unless, of course, Sherlock was completely sure that this is what he wanted. Then he would not turn the boy down and would give him everything he wanted. After several silent moments he slowly nodded his head, licking his lips. "Yeah, I do," he whispered as he moved his hand from Sherlock's arse to rest on his cheek, eyes locked intently on his boyfriend. "But only if you're completely sure. This is a big step and... and it might hurt just a bit."

_Okay, so he hadn't been wrong. Sherlock knew John would worship his body, show him even that it was nice. But that was wishful thinking. He took a deep breath and nodded his head. John's hand on his cheek was reassuring and as long as he had those eyes looking at him the whole time he could do it. John was being careful in this. He wanted him to be okay with all this. "I'm sure," he said softly, keeping his hand on John's body so he could have that contact. "I can take it." He had figured he was going to be the one on the bottom this time around, especially since it was his first time ever. "I'll tell you to stop if it hurts too much or if I change my mind."_

This was actually going to happen. John could hardly hear anything over the blood rushing behind his ears and his suddenly elevated heartbeat. "Yeah, all right," he whispered as he leaned forward and gently met his boyfriend's lips. He easily pulled his shirt over his head, breaking the kiss to do so but instantly returning to the kiss again. He couldn't help himself. All he wanted to do was snog Sherlock and take him to bed. Slow. Meaningful. It was all he could think about. "Good. Perfect," he mumbled as he slowly dipped his fingers underneath the towel and a few inches above Sherlock's penis. He waited for approval, something to let him know that was all right and he could continue.

_Oh God. Sherlock could feel their chests together, the heat coming off of the two of them incredible. The fingers were close to touching him in his most intimate area as they kissed in that slow way. He froze for a few seconds, quickly trying to decide what he wanted to do, not what he should let John do. "Hold off," he finally said. He didn't want John to touch him just yet. They could wait for that. There were hours until he had to go to work and John might go to the rugby practice. He did want to make this last and important. His arms draped around John's neck as he kissed him in that slow way. "We should go to the bedroom for that."_

John yanked his hand back like he'd been burned, nodding in agreement as he backed away from his boyfriend slowly. Bedroom. Right. He Sherlock for a moment, taking him in. Flushed already, standing in his towel. "Yeah, sorry," he whispered with a small nod. "Of course." He licked his lips and, without a second though, easily yanked his trousers down. His erection was obvious while he stood there only in his pants. Not only that but his chest was flushed red, all of his muscles tensed slightly as he struggled to stop himself from picking Sherlock up and carrying him to the bedroom. Instead he offered his hand to the boy, mouth slightly ajar, and swallowed nervously. His hand was shaking slightly as he held it out.

_He could see what John wanted to do. The muscles tensing, the quick look over his body as if seeing which would be the best way. Sherlock found it a bit romantic what John wanted to do. He knew that they were now on a level playing field with John having his boxers on only, an erection completely obvious while he was standing there. John was giving and Sherlock was taking. He knew he needed to make it more even and give John what he wanted as well. So he looked at John for a few moments, his eyes flashing to John's hand then back up to his face, before dropping his towel. He had a bit of an erection as well, but not as hard as John's. He was a tad larger than average and uncircumcised. "You can carry me," he said, finally taking John's hand. He couldn't deny that his hands were shaking slightly as well._

The moment that Sherlock's towel dropped John couldn't help but look. His breath caught and he could do nothing more but smile, eyes bright as he moved forward. Carrying it was. He gently met his boyfriend's lips, sliding his own boxers down. He was smaller than Sherlock but he had nothing to hide since he was completely hard right now. He had experience, he knew he could make people beg and plead for him. He easily picked his boyfriend up, keeping the kiss gentle as he scooped the boy off the ground. "I will go slow," he whispered against Sherlock's lips, his breathing completely uneven now. "Take my time, make sure I don't hurt you." He swallowed nervously and moved into the bedroom, gently setting his boyfriend down on the bed and easily moving to settle between his legs.

_Sherlock nodded his head at the words, kissing him back the best he could with John's lips moving as he spoke. There was nothing but trust between them. His long legs hung down low. John was setting him down, settling himself between his legs. Now he was more nervous than before, his heart rate skyrocketing in a matter of seconds. "Do you have condoms," he questioned, knowing that if the answer was no he would stop this right away. By now he was completely hard as he looked up at his boyfriend with those wide blue-grey eyes. Poe, who must have been on the bed, made a noise before leaving the room. The cat seemed to understand what was going on and gave them some privacy._

Everything right now was a haze and he hardly caught what Sherlock had asked. He just stayed there, staring at his boyfriend for a long moment before it all registered. Condoms. "Y-Yeah," he mumbled as he moved swiftly off the bed, his legs wobbling as he stumbled out of the room. The bloody bag was on the side of the couch and after struggling to even open it, he finally found the box of condoms and the bottle of lube. He rushed back to the bedroom, tossing both of the items on the bed before crawling back on top of Sherlock. Despite his rushed body movements, the kiss he started was slow and gentle as his hand traveled slowly down the center of his boyfriend's stomach. After the incident in the bathroom it was clear he was hesitant to move it any lower. He sucked and nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip with a long moan.

_So John had been thinking ahead. He could see that the box of condoms were unused along with the lube. Those things were going to technically be inside him after they both were completely ready to take that step. John's lips were against his and his body weight there in a reassuring manner. He put his arms around John's bare back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin there. John's hand was travelling down his stomach, but paused in a respectful way. Sherlock continued to kiss John as he removed a hand from around John so he could push the hand lower in his own way of saying that it was now fine to be touched there. Did it really take this long to get ready for sex? Or was John making sure to do something just for him? All in all he felt like John was making him feel special, feel like everything about him mattered._

The moment Sherlock moved his hand John dropped it lower, gently wrapping it around his boyfriend's erection and giving it a slow, loose-handed stroke. His free hand fumbled with the lube, finally managing to open it. "Going to prep you," he whispered as he pulled away from the kiss. This was supposed to be about Sherlock, he wanted his boyfriend to know that he was worshiping his body, giving him something he would never forget. Every little thing was to get the younger man beneath him worked up and understand why everything was so bloody fantastic. His hand let go of Sherlock's erection to momentarily squeeze lube over his right fingers. "Just relax, all right? Relax." He nudged Sherlock's legs apart, returned his left hand to the soft, slow strokes on the boy's erection, and slowly started pressing one finger into his entrance.

_Sherlock wasn't sure how to react when John grasped him. A wave of pleasure flew through him and he only thought to grip to John tighter, bring him closer. He willed himself to calm down at John's words, looking at the lube dripping onto his fingers. He was going to be prepped by fingers sliding into him. John began stroking him again and a single finger began pushing into him. His eyes flew open. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird. His muscles were tightening from the feeling. It felt... Oh God, he didn't know how it felt. He tilted his head to the side as he did his best to do as John said. "Move it in faster," he said._

John looked up at Sherlock for a moment and nodded, pushing it in faster and then pulling it out. He started a semi-fast rhythm with one finger, willing Sherlock to relax a bit more. "You're beautiful," he whispered as he turned his head and pressed several soft kisses to the inside of his boyfriend's thigh. "God, you are absolutely amazing. Look at you." He nipped at the skin beneath his mouth and took in a deep breath. "I'm going to use a second finger, all right? Stay calm. You can't keep tensing up." He looked up at Sherlock and gently worked a second finger in, scissoring them slightly to start stretching his boyfriend.

_**Fuck.** Sherlock changed from gripping John, he was now gripping the sheets, holding onto them tightly as he worked through the sensations rushing through him. One finger hadn't been that bad, it had even been good, but with two that were stretching him out he now only felt a burning sensation. It **hurt**. In turn he gripped his sheets tighter to transfer what he was feeling out of his body. John's kisses were good but not distracting enough. He needed something more that would keep his mind away from John's fingers pushing inside him. Very quickly, he looked up at meet his gaze. "Kiss me."_

That instantly made John want to stop. Definitely painful. The boy's fingers were clutching the sheets but he hadn't said stop. Did he stop now or wait for the command to stop? He moved slowly up Sherlock's body and gently met his boyfriend's lips, continuing to work his fingers and his hand up and down Sherlock's penis. "'S okay," he mumbled into the kiss. If he kept everything slow then it might not hurt so bad. He kept the kiss going, his tongue slowly wandering around the younger man's mouth. At this rate he had a feeling that Sherlock was going to tell him to stop.

_He wasn't going to tell him to stop. No, he was going to conquer this. He was going to do this and figure out a way to handle it. Sherlock kissed John back, doing the best he could to focus in on that. All this progress he had made was not going to be for nothing. This wasn't going to be something he was failing at. He just continued to kiss him, to make sure that the man knew he was at least a bit better. The pain had subsided slightly at least. When he pulled away he trailed his lips down to John's neck, trying to show that it wasn't as bad anymore. "I think I'm ready," he quietly said into the skin. "I think I'm ready for you."_

John had heard those words so many times in his life but coming from Sherlock's mouth, feeling them against his neck, made him moan loudly. God, Sherlock was ready for him. He'd said so. He slowly pulled his fingers out of his boyfriend, shakily opening the box of condoms and managing to finally pull one from the box. After that he just stared at his boyfriend, eyes wide and pupils blow to the point that hardly any blue could be seen. He ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and slowly rolled it on to his erection, pouring lube on it and slicking it up with several soft moans and the occasional weak thrust of his hips. "Slow," he mumbled, clearly trying to focus on keeping control of his hips so he wouldn't hurt Sherlock. "Gonna go slow." He slowly spread Sherlock's legs further apart, bent down to meet his lips, and slowly started to enter the young man beneath him.

_It was going to be fine. It was only going to hurt for a little bit, just like it had when he had been stretched out. Then it was going to feel brilliant. Those things were what Sherlock repeated in his head as he watched John get himself ready by putting on the condom and putting a generous amount of lube on himself. He wrapped his arms tighter around John's neck as he knew it was going to happen, that this really was it. Sherlock kissed him for those few seconds before he found that he just couldn't anymore. The pain was about ten times worse than just the fingers but there was a mix of pleasure. His mouth was open wide along with his eyes, his nails digging into John's skin. A few short noises came out as well, but nothing that sounded intelligent._

Were those good noises or bad noises? They weren't kissing anymore but that was because Sherlock looked like he couldn't focus on anything. John bit his bottom lip as his hips gently met Sherlock's arse. All the way in and only those little noises. No kissing, really. Not much to indicate that Sherlock was enjoying it. Just signs of pain. Fingernails digging into his skin, wide eyes. "God, Sherlock, I'm sorry," he whispered, voice breathless as he lifted his left hand to rest it on the boy's cheek. "I'm an idiot, shouldn't have done this," that's when he moved to start pulling out, a blush prominent across his face and chest. "Sorry."

_Sherlock hadn't been expecting it to hurt that much. He looked at John with those same wide eyes. He was growing used to the feeling of John inside him. "John, no," he said, his voice soft. John couldn't just enter him and then decide that it wasn't time. Did John change his mind? He sat himself up slightly by wrapping his arms around John's neck. "No, it's fine. I'm okay. Please don't stop." He pressed a kiss to John's lips, lingering there as he waited to see what John would do. "I don't want you to stop. I'm okay." His voice was a bit thicker than usual but other than that he was fine. "Just... keep going."_

John slowly returned the kiss, panting into his boyfriend's mouth as he listening to everything being said. Sherlock wanted him to keep going and, damn it, he wanted to so bad. It felt wonderful. "Y-Yeah," he whispered, slowly pressing his hips forward again and letting out a soft moan. "You feel amazing," he whispered against his boyfriend's lips, his free hand clutching the sheet beneath Sherlock's body. If he changed the angle just a bit then he might hit Sherlock's prostate and he knew that would send the boy into a bliss. He moved his right hand and gently tilted the younger boy's hips up, slowly pulling back before thrusting forward again, desperately searching for the spot that would leave Sherlock speechless.

_John moved Sherlock's hips upwards before thrusting again. Something was brushed that made his hips jerk at their own accord. Sherlock figured it was his prostate, the male's "g-spot" according to the things he had read about sex. He put his arms around John's neck tighter to draw their bodies closer. "Right there," he mumbled as he kissed John eagerly, "Do that again." He was ready for John to begin thrusting into him, to change things around so it was more like people made it out to be. Passionate, binding, loving. Wasn't that what sex was for, besides, of course, to try and create children if it was male on female. He wanted to lose himself in John, in everything that John was._

There it was. John couldn't help the swell of pride that rushed through his body at the thought that he'd found something to make Sherlock enjoy his first time. He nodded, grunted slightly in response, and took a deep breath. Now or never. The longer he waited to start a rhythm the worse it would get for his boyfriend, he figured. He slowly returned the kisses before his hips started moving forward, rolling, and pulling back in a steady and slightly powerful rhythm. Each time he was conscious to make sure that he hit Sherlock's prostate. Before long he couldn't continue the kiss and settled for burying his face into the side of his boyfriend's neck and moaning against the skin with each thrust forward.

_The sound of their heavy breathing soon filled the room. Each thrust brought out a noise from Sherlock as he felt that special area inside him get touched. He soon was feeling slightly high from it. There was power lurking beneath the surface of the thrusts that made him squirm and moan, his back arching as the feeling of pleasure rolled through him. Time was passing in a blur for him and he was lost in John, completely stopping all sense of caring for if he was going to miss the start of work or not. He moved his legs up to wrap around John's waist, tilting his hips up so John slid deeper into him from this new angle, making him moan and grasp at John tighter._

Legs around his waist and-- "Nngh, _fuck_ ," John growled into Sherlock's neck and let out a gasp, his hips snapping forward powerfully before he could think about controlling himself. Sherlock had no idea how utterly intoxicating he was right now, moaning and grasping at John so desperately. It was the most amazing shag he'd certainly ever had. He dropped one hand with ease between them, grasping Sherlock's erection -- uncircumcised, it felt so different and so wonderful -- and started a tight, fast rhythm of strokes with his hand. Each thrust, now a bit more powerful than before, knocked the headboard against the wall and it sounded amazing mixed with the moans, gasps, and heavy breathing.

_Sherlock wasn't sure what noises he was making anymore. They were all so desperate, so needy, for John, just wanting more of it. Now he could see why sex was amazing. He felt like something important, something desirable. John was making him feel this way. He could barely control himself with John's hand stroking him and the way he was getting thrust into. All this was being done on instinct. His face was balled up into a look of pure pleasure. The muscles were slowly tightening and now he had a feeling what that meant: He was going to have an orgasm. God, he wasn't ready yet. He didn't want it to be over so soon. Sherlock wanted **more**. "Harder," he barely got out, his word sounding more of a gasp out._

One word. It took one word for John to completely lose it and let out a near shout. His hips froze for a moment before slamming forward, moving as quick as his muscular, compact body would allow him. He had spent all of his attention on make sure that Sherlock was enjoying himself that the moment he got one command he was completely and utterly gone, lost in the haze of pleasure that had taken over his mind. He was moaning into his boyfriend's neck with abandon, not caring that the headboard was now smashing into the wall with loud 'cracks' and that people could probably hear them. "God, Sherlock, yes!" Then his entire vision went white, his entire body tensing as he shouted Sherlock's name and reached his climax, whimpering the moment his body allowed him to relax as he focused on his left hand still stroking Sherlock's erection.

_Everyone in this building block would know what was going on. Sherlock couldn't control himself either. He was grasping at John and moaning just like John was but soon he just couldn't make any noise. Nothing would come out as he breathed and moved as quickly as he could. John's body tensed and he felt the man release inside of him, all of it getting caught by the condom. He was getting close as well, all of his body tense. With John's coaxing hand and John still inside him, pressed right against his prostate, he reached his point. His orgasm was mainly more of a gasp then releasing with a few thrusts into John's hand. It left him feeling shaky in a good way and completely stress free. His hips lifted and backed up to pull John out of himself before holding onto him, really not wanting to let him go, and rocking very slightly._


	15. Chapter 15

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

Rocking. Right, Sherlock was rocking them. John groaned slightly but didn't protest to any of it, only wincing at the loss of the warmth that being inside Sherlock had. He didn't think twice about his weight compared to the boy beneath him and went limp on top of the lanky body. Nothing coherent would come out of his mouth and he just settled for several soft kisses against the now sweaty skin of Sherlock's neck, not even having enough power to suck at the skin underneath his lips. After several moments passed he realized his real worry should really be his boyfriend and the fact that he'd just shagged him harder than he'd planned. "You 'kay?" He mumbled into Sherlock's neck.

_He was just a bit overstimulated and excited yet. Sherlock wasn't in pain whatsoever, he was just slightly worried that he would be too much like jello when the time to go to work came. Hearing John's question he nodded his head, tucking his head down so it was buried into John's shoulder. "I'm okay," he mumbled back, closing his eyes and trying to will himself back to normalcy so he wouldn't scare John. All he needed to do was gather where he was, figure that out and he was going to be okay. His eyes closed and he breathed in and out slowly. His bedroom at 221B Baker Street in London. There. He felt a bit calmer already and he wasn't moving into the man anymore. "I'm okay," he repeated._

John took a deep breath, letting it out shakily as his body slowly started returning to normal. It no longer felt like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest and he could hear normally again. For a long moment he considered rolling off of Sherlock simply so his body weight wouldn't crush the boy beneath him, but Sherlock's arms were wrapped tightly around him and he had a feeling that trying to do that would throw something off. So he settled himself on top of his boyfriend with a huff, wincing the moment he realized the condom was still on. "Gonna reach between us," he mumbled as he slowly pulled the condom off and tossed it to the floor. "'M gonna pick it up, promise."

_Sherlock didn't find John all that heavy or uncomfortable on top of him. He laid there and felt John reach between them, just as he said he would, and pull off the condom. It landed in the middle of his floor. "You're cleaning up any mess it makes on the floor," he said, finally removing his arms from around John's neck so he could go and do whatever he needed to do, like lay next to him like the man probably wanted to do rather than lay on top of. Lazily he glanced over at his clock. About an hour until work. Hopefully he'd be fine by then, perhaps not look like he'd been shagged senseless._

John rolled easily to the side of his boyfriend, wincing at the feeling of the sticky mess between them from Sherlock. "'M gonna cancel practice and clean up," he mumbled as he grabbed the sheet from beneath the blanket and easily cleaned both of them off. "I'll make dinner," he added softly. Once they were both clean enough, he shifted and pressed his face into Sherlock's side, eyes closing as he clearly was now struggling to stay awake. "Sorry 'bout the... rough," he yawned and lazily opened his eyes, completely blue now and almost child-like in his post-bliss haze. "You can return the favor next time." The smile on his lips was genuine as he tiredly studied his boyfriend.

_Sherlock smiled a little and sat up. "No, just order out tonight," he mumbled. He knew he had to get up and get ready to go again while John could lay around for the most part. There was a lazy look on his own face as he focused on the man who had just taken his virginity. "You can cook tomorrow night. And I'll definitely return it." He lay on the bed, sprawled out, for a few more moments before sitting himself up. It didn't matter that he was naked anymore or that John was staring at his nude body. "I've got to go to work anyways. I'll text you when I'm leaving there so you can order something, yeah?" He didn't trust this sleepy John to use the kitchen tonight._

John nodded slightly and instantly curled into himself the moment Sherlock's body warmth was gone. "Chinese," he stated softly, licking his lips as his eyes lazily traveled over Sherlock's body. Now that was his, wasn't it? And the mass of exhausted muscles sprawled across the bed was Sherlock's. The idea of having Sherlock above him like that made him shiver in excitement. "You have time for a shower. Don't go to work smelling like sex," he joked softly, smiling as he rolled on his back and stretched without any shame. He relaxed against the mattress with a groan of contentment, his eyes slowly falling shut.

_Sherlock leaned down over his boyfriend to press a kiss to his lips. "I'll get out the menu then. Order whatever you want." He would definitely be hungry tonight. "I think Molly's going to figure it out today that I'm seeing someone." He made himself get up, keeping a hand on the bed. His legs were wobbly but he knew he'd be able to persevere and stand up. It wasn't going to be all that hard if he kept thinking. Instead of John picking up their used condom it was him. He tied it off and threw it away in the bin before shuffling off to the bathroom. "You need to take a shower too," he called before closing the door so that he could look at himself in the mirror. He really looked like he'd just been shagged. No shower was going to change that._

John's heart broke for a moment for dear Molly, so innocent and clearly in love with Sherlock. Then again, and John knew from experience, it was rather hard to hide the just-shagged look from anybody, virgin or not. He grinned foolishly and rolled around in the bed, smashing his face into his boyfriend's pillow an eagerly inhaling the scent. They'd shagged. He had taken Sherlock, had him in the most intimate way possible, and now he couldn't help himself from flat out grinning at how fantastic he felt. Who knew Sherlock Holmes, the boy who sat alone in the corner, would be his boyfriend. Attractive and witty and bloody fantastic. And all his. He finally got out of bed, picking up his boxers and easily slipping them on before stripping the bed and moving toward the washing machine.

_His hair was everywhere, lips swollen and red, skin flushed, smile on his face that wouldn't go away, body held up straighter. The list could go on. Sherlock turned away from himself and went to the shower, turning the water on warm. He got in and cleaned up, using a generous amount of everything. This was a good day. This was just another change for him. He could deal with the change. After all the soap was off him he got out, dried, and dressed. His legs weren't as wobbly but his walking definitely was stiffer from having John shag him senseless. John was gone from the bedroom he found when he went in there to get his cell phone. It would take a good twenty minute walk to the shop, which was about how much time he had now. "John," he called out as he walked through the flat. "I'm going to get going."_

Once John managed to get the sheets and blankets in the washer he heard Sherlock's voice, turning toward it with a smile. "Right then. Have a safe walk!" He dashed toward the voice with a grin, sliding to a stop in front of Sherlock and giving him a quick kiss. "Don't forget to text me, I'll order when you do. You like the lemon chicken, yeah?" He reached up without a second thought and flattened a few stray locks of hair on his boyfriend's head. "Check your phone while you're at work, too," he whispered with a mischievous smile and a wink. "Off with you, then. Go sell books." He gave Sherlock one last kiss before walking toward the bedroom.

_Sherlock smiled at John's actions. "I'll text you what to get me during my break, alright?" He bit his bottom lip as he looked at John. What did he have in mind? He had a feeling it was bound to be interesting with the wink and look on his face when he said it. John amazed him slightly. He watched him go before leaving the flat, going to work. There was no problem going to work but Molly was giving him weird looks because of either his appearance or how happy he looked with life. He really did need to tell her, but the look she had when she thought she was alone said that she already knew. Quietly he worked, trying not to keep checking his phone._

John waited as patiently as possible, not wanting to rush anything, and knew the moment was right when he slowly started getting hard again just thinking about Sherlock writhing beneath him. He slowly pulled his boxers off, grinning like an idiot when he discovered a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. He shut the door, grabbed his mobile, and flexed every muscle before snapping a picture. If Sherlock had enjoyed the picture with just the towel than one of him naked, and with an erection, would hopefully make him eager for more. He sent the picture with a grin before sliding his boxers back on and moving to put the bed sheets into the dryer.

_Right when he was in the middle of putting books in the alphabetical order his phone went off. Sherlock just dropped what he was doing right then and there. He flushed immediately. John was naked, with an erection no doubt, with his muscles looking larger than usual from flexing. Almost immediately Sherlock felt a bloody reaction of his own showing up. Dammit. The middle of a bookstore was not a good time for this, no matter how good John looked like that. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the annoying fact of what John had done in his pants, to send a message back._

_Now what am I to do with this picture? You're going to kill me with this, John. SH_

John grinned at the response as he moved into the living room, laying out on the couch as he turned the telly on and flipped through several channels before finally deciding to further tease his boyfriend. Honestly, he felt like the younger man needed some sort of entertainment. How much fun could a book store really be, anyway? He lowered his boxers on his hips again, his left hand eagerly wrapping around his penis, and lifted it up. He'd hardly done this with anybody but with Sherlock it felt... fun, interesting. Sure, they'd heard all about how 'sexting' was wrong and they should never do it but he wanted Sherlock to know how aroused he was simply by the thought of him. He snapped the picture, his hand holding his erection up, and sent it.

Look at it? Realize how much you turn me on and then do something about it when you get home. -JW

_Sherlock couldn't concentrate on work anymore. The cart of books that was his was just forgotten now. He had three pictures of John now. One of him wearing at least a towel and now two of him naked, one of a close up just of his penis. He was glad he was alone now. John was just... Amazing. That had been inside him barely an hour ago making him feel perfect and like he was the only thing that John cared about in the world. And he caused that. He really didn't know how to feel. The moral side told him to tell John to knock it off while the other part that had let him have sex with the man said to just accept it and maybe even contribute. All in all it was stressing him out on what to do._

_I'm in the middle of work, John. Now you've given me one too that I have to work around. SH_

John easily slid his boxers up, shifting a bit to make himself comfortable and will his erection away. It probably wasn't too mature to send those to Sherlock while he was at work. Having a job was important, an income of money and all that. He bit his bottom lip and sighed. It would all be fine, of course, because he would get to see his boyfriend again soon, not have to send him pictures and instead show him in real life how worked up John got thinking about him. He slowly started replying, restraining himself so he wouldn't send yet another picture.

Oh... sorry 'bout that. Think about something real bad. Mr and Mrs Hudson shagging. There. That did the trick, yeah? What d'you want for dinner? -JW

_There was no third picture, which slightly surprised him. Sherlock started working again, working on the alphabetizing of the authors to make sure that they were all correctly ordered. He grimaced at the text, really not ever wanting to picture that in his life though he'd heard it quite a few times, and started putting the stacks of books away in their right place rather than in a disorganized one that they had been in from the constant pulling off the shelves of customers who didn't know how to put them away correctly._

_I've already heard them shag before. You will too sooner or later. Didn't really help the situation. Order me a box of the lemon chicken and dumplings. And you can keep sending the pictures if you want. I think I've got myself under control. SH_

Oh, he could keep sending the pictures? A devious idea popped into his head but he decided to make Sherlock wait. John moved slowly off of the couch and glanced through the take-out menu of the Chinese place. It took him a while but he decided to order the same thing as Sherlock but with a side of lo-mein. Another unhealthy meal but he figured he'd burned the calories shagging Sherlock earlier and deserved a bit of a break. After several minutes pacing the kitchen he moved into the living room, flopping on to the couch with a sigh. He could do more than a simple picture. He lowered his boxers and wrapped his left hand around his erection -- it hadn't gone away no matter how hard he'd tried -- and hit record on the video device on his phone. The moment it was going he started stroking himself, tight and fast, his hips occasionally lifting up. He recorded for about thirty seconds, moaning occasionally, before whimpering and forcing himself to stop. With a bit of a shaking hand he sent the video.

You're welcome. (; -JW

_He'd just gotten into the groove of working again, the erection he had dying down almost completely. Sherlock was just happily going along when the vibration of his phone came again. This time he made sure to finish the cart before this time going to the bathroom to see what John did. Their bathrooms were just one stall, one for each sex, and the men's was free seeing that it wasn't all that busy on a Tuesday afternoon. He opened the message and watched the video, his mouth dropping open and erection perking right back up. Dammit, John. Sherlock's heart pounded as he made his own decision. He pulled himself out of his slacks. He was half hard, the head of his erection just poking through the foreskin that almost looked like pursed lips. As took a picture of it he felt so stupid, having a feeling he was making the worst decision ever because it was based off what his erection was telling him to do, and then sent it off._

_Dammit. Look what the hell you do to me. SH_

It took a bit for his phone to light up and John took a moment of his own, finishing the scene from a rerun of Doctor Who, to pick it up. He was expecting a text, nothing more than being reprimanded for doing more than a picture, but what greeted him when he opened the message made his head fall back with a soft moan. Sherlock's penis, right there. It was bigger than the other bloke he'd been with and, Jesus, he was in his work clothes, haphazardly pulled from his slacks. It was like a bloody fantasy, really. He bit his bottom lip, his hips lifting slightly off the couch involuntarily as he struggled to type out a reply.

Fuck, look at you. I want you to shag me tonight, Sherlock. I want that. -JW

_After the picture it was put away quickly. Sherlock was flushing deeply now but tried to will it away as he went out to finish up his shift at work. He had about thirty more minutes of doing this. His brother was probably going to see that. He winced to himself as he waited for the reply from John. It took a few extra minutes, but nothing too long. It was just enough time to start on another cart of books. Then it came. Just words, no picture or video this time. But the words were as damaging as the picture. He was beginning to believe that words held more worth than a picture because of John. He wasn't sure if he knew enough about shagging to do that to his boyfriend._

_John, we just shagged earlier. Can't we just do something else? SH_

In all honesty, John didn't know what type of text he was expecting but the one he received made him chuckle anyway. Sherlock made a rather valid point. They would both be tired, his boyfriend more so simply because he had gone to work. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything other than his erection. So many things were going through his head now. Had he ruined their growing relationship with naked pictures? It had been a spur of the moment thing, really. Hell, Sherlock had sent one back so it wasn't too bad. He checked the time on his phone and moved into the kitchen. Sherlock would be home in about thirty minutes. If he ordered now the food would arrive the same time as his boyfriend. He called, placed their order, and then leaned against the counter to reply to Sherlock's text. As long as he got to cuddle against Sherlock that night he would feel just fine.

Can I sleep with you again tonight? -JW

_Sherlock felt very flushed as he continued working, pushing the cart to another section where these books belonged. The erection went down so he could actually do things without feeling completely uncomfortable, or like Molly would notice and start questioning certain things about what was going on with him lately. John's text back made him smile because he was taking it in the non-sexual way, meaning they’d just be sleeping in the same bed that night. If John meant having sex again it was beyond him and his literal mind. He really didn’t care, either. That was something that they could talk about once he got home, given that they were going to be in the same bed, naked or otherwise._

_Yes, you can sleep with me tonight. SH_

_He sent the text and really set to working. Less than half an hour left now. The time went by quickly as he tried to forget how much he just wanted to get back to his flat to see John and with a swift good-bye to Molly he was out of there. It was colder on the walk back, colder than the night before at least, and he made sure to walk quickly. He got inside, said hello to Mrs. Hudson and saw that Mr. Hudson had in fact gotten back, gave a terse hello to the man, and went upstairs. They probably heard him and John shagging then. And he was flushing again. "John, I'm back," he said, taking off his coat to hang it up on the coat rack near the living room._


	16. Chapter 16

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

John read the text and smiled. That was something he could handle, at least. He would certainly give Sherlock a bit of space tonight, though. If snuggling up right to his side had prevented him from sleeping then John figured he could sleep on the large amount of bed they'd left open the night before. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly heard Sherlock come in and only lifted his head when he heard his name. "Sherlock," he said softly, walking swiftly out of the kitchen and moving to wrap his arms tightly around his boyfriend's torso. Hell, it had only been a few hours but he'd missed Sherlock a great deal. "Hi," he whispered as he looked up at him, a smile on his face the moment he heard a knock downstairs. "And there's dinner!" With that he scampered downstairs in only his pajama pants, his stomach growling at the thought of food.

_Why was John always without a shirt? Sherlock smiled a bit and held the man back and did led him go when the food came. He went into his bedroom and started changing. God, it still smelled a bit like sex. The sweat had lingered around in the air and the bed was looking very clean. John had done the sheets. He changed himself into the perfect relaxing clothes -- low slung sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt -- and exited the bedroom. He was hungrier than expected. Apparently shagging took a lot more out of him than he would have thought. Perhaps this would become a new way for him to exercise and not get bored if he and John lasted that long. No. He couldn't think like that. He didn't want to think of this in ‘if’ terms, not like some experiment. So, while in the kitchen, he grabbed forks for he and John._

John grabbed the food with a warm thank you and a generous tip before darting back upstairs. The smell of the food was making him ravenous and he wanted to do nothing more than eat to his heart's content. He set the bag down on the kitchen table once he managed to find some room and set all of the food out. "Two lemon chickens -- you've converted me to the dark side on that, I believe -- dumplings for you and chow-mein for me." After a small nod he moved forward and gently met his boyfriend's lips. "Did the sheets, nice and clean for our snuggling and sleeping tonight." Another quick kiss before he grabbed the fork, popped open his container of food, and took several quick bites. "How was work, then?" A playful glint flashed in his eyes.

_Sherlock was smiling and grabbing his two boxes of food, sure that he would eat it all for once, and listened to John's talking. "Dark side? I don't see it as a dark side personally. I see it as a place that's full of food that I can eat to my heart's content." It was easier to grow playful around John now. He took a few bites as well and almost choked on his food. "Next time warn me before you do that," he said, moving a hand over his mouth so John wouldn't see him chewing food up. The words were left unspoken about if he ever saw that picture that he had taken of himself around the school what he would do. It seemed to be a mutual thing since they had both sent pictures. "It was good, though. Just the same as always."_

"Where's the fun in warning you?" John asked as he swallowed his mouthful of food and grinned. "Not too keen on opening up a text and seeing my erection, then?" He chuckled and turned toward the living room, flopping on to the couch and digging into his lemon chicken eagerly. "There's a rugby match on the telly if you want to watch. I already checked, your other show isn't on." It felt so domestic now to be in the flat, staying with Sherlock. It didn't feel like he was just staying there and sleeping on the couch, it felt like he belonged in the flat. Sure, his diet had taken quite the hit but he could live with that if it meant seeing Sherlock smile and talking to him. "And don't worry, I've locked that picture on my phone. Password protected. Nobody is gonna see it." A pause as a cocky smirk tugged at his lips. "But if you want to show everybody how worked up you make me, go right ahead." He studied Sherlock with a chuckle.

_"Never said that," he called as he followed John. "I just like a bit of warning so I can control myself better. I don't fancy being anywhere like a visit to my parents when I occasionally do, opening a message, and seeing my boyfriend's penis right there and reacting to it." Sherlock took another bite and sat next to John. He liked this. John was just like a regular person in the flat, like Mrs. Hudson would be when she decided to try and be more of a friend than a landlady. One of the boxes of food was on a knee while the other was cradled in his lap. He was already making quick work of the lemon chicken. "Thank you," he said, talking about the picture being locked away so only John could see it. "I don't have anyone to show that to, John. And the rugby match sounds just fine." Another bite and he turned more of his attention to the telly. He didn't understand the game of rugby at all._

John ate without looking at his container, taking large bites and hardly chewing before taking the next. All of his attention was on the telly, watching the match unfold and occasionally shaking his head or smiling. After his lemon chicken was empty he leaned forward and placed the empty container on the small table in front of them, opening his second and digging into chow-mein eagerly. It was clear he'd deprived himself of delicious food for a long time and lacked any self control when it came to eating it. "Oi! No, idiot move!" He finally shouted after several minutes of silence. "That's not legal! Call him on that!" He yelled around a mouthful of food, pointing his fork at the telly with an aggravated sigh. "Idiots. Don't know how to fucking handle the ball." He grunted and leaned back on the couch, slowing his eating down considerably.

_Were most men like this? Sherlock was watching John with curiosity written across his face. He didn't really get the game or how something couldn't be legal. Were people there breaking laws out there on live television? He was out of his league and it made him feel uncomfortable. A knee curled tighter to his chest as he finished up on his first box and moved onto the dumplings. John was seeming to be fine now but another outburst could happen. He chewed on the first dumpling thoughtfully, gaze flickering from John to the screen that had people playing the game. Finally his gaze went back to the food and he finished up rather quickly for his typical slow eating habits. "I'm going to take another bath, alright? I'll be out later." He needed to think. Both of his containers went on the coffee table in front of him as he stood up to leave._

John tore his attention away from the rugby match almost instantly. He'd yelled, made a considerable amount of noise, and hadn't even thought about Sherlock. He watched his boyfriend for a long moment before setting his nearly-empty container on the coffee table and standing as well. "I didn't mean to yell," he said softly, standing behind Sherlock with wide eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Sherlock, make him leave because he'd triggered something. "Sorry." Reaching out and grabbing Sherlock's arm didn't seem like a good idea at all so he settled on just standing there, watching him for a long moment. "I mean, you can go and have a bath. That's fine and all just... 'M sorry." He nodded and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe while Sherlock was bathing he could go down and see if Mrs. Hudson had any extra food for them.

_Sherlock turned around, looking at John. He hadn't done anything wrong. Yes, the loudness was annoying and someone shouting automatically made him want to shout, but it was nothing that he couldn't put up with. His eyes glanced over John's face before he said, "It's fine, John. I'm not upset. I just don't like the game much so I'm going to go and take a bath instead." He smiled a little bit and said, "There's some leftover pizza in the fridge if you want some. It'll need to be thrown away in a bit but it's still good if you want it. If you need anything else I'll be in the bath. Don't hesitate to knock." To reassure John further he leaned down and pressed a kiss to John's lips, allowing himself to linger for a few moments. He then pulled away and walked off, closing the bathroom door behind him for a bit of privacy._

John just stared after Sherlock, licking his lips with a small smile. Well, at least it hadn't be him who had done it. Not intentionally, at least. It had just been the rugby and, more than likely, the fact that'd acted like the typical alpha-male type by shouting at the telly. He bit his bottom lip and slowly cleaned up their mess, popping his leftovers in the fridge before glancing around the living room. Sherlock had said that he shouldn't hesitate to knock... they'd already seen each other naked. Would climbing into the bath with him be too much? He bit his bottom lip in thought, moving into the hall and eyeing the door that now separated him from his boyfriend. He lifted his hand, knocked gently, and exhaled shakily. "Can I join you?"

_The water was warm and seeped into his muscles, easing the tension away. John had taken a beating out of him with the pounding he had done right into his body without any holding back. Tomorrow it would be worse with how he knew things tended to hurt and he was doing all he could to make sure that it might be a bit better for himself. He wasn't a virgin anymore, though. Sherlock Holmes, genius and current freak of the school, had lost his virginity to John Watson, captain of the rugby team and primarily thought to be only attracted to women. He had a stupid little smile on his face that he got when he was really happy and sunk under the water more. Then came the knock and John's voice. He couldn't be left alone for two minutes, could he? "Yes, you can join me," he called through. "Let me make a bit of room for you first."_

Easier than he thought. Definitely a lot easier. John had expected a no, something along the lines of needing alone time. After all, the boy on the other side of the door and lost his virginity nearly six hours ago. It was an earth-shattering experience... or it had been for him, at least. "Right," he muttered as he slowly opened the door, not bothering with modesty and instantly sliding his pajamas and pants off in one go. He shut the door, standing against it and just studying Sherlock. Eyes wide, head tilted slightly to the side. That boy in the tub had opened himself up, let John see an intimate side of him that nobody else had ever seen. It sent a shiver through his spine and he took a hesitant step forward. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight if you want some time alone," he whispered, reaching a hand up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. He'd known that odd sound in a person's voice when they invited somebody in but really wanted to be alone. His Mum had mastered it when he was six.


	17. Chapter 17

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

_Sherlock knew he was being studied. John was watching him, checking to see that he was fine. Yes, he was. He really was. Losing his virginity was something he wanted to celebrate by himself for a bit and with the offer of sleeping on the couch he knew he'd take that time well. He smiled warmly, moving a bit more to create some space for the muscled, naked man standing there. "Go ahead and come in, John. Tell me if the water's too cool or too hot for you. And I'd like it if you slept on the couch." Reading a book, a bit of coffee, maybe even a cigarette or two. The night after the bath was planned out for him. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall of the bathroom. The tile was cool against his face. "Tomorrow morning I think I might go into the band room to practice my violin. I haven't played it since Thursday and I want to make sure that it still plays fine." John would soon learn that his violin could be put above people._

Right. Sleeping on the couch. After a night of adjusting and rather enjoying the comforting warmth that Sherlock provided, John was returning to the small couch. Not a problem, though, because respecting boundaries was something people in relationships had to do. He bit his bottom lip and moved into the bath, an instant shiver running up his body. The temperature was perfect and he let out a small groan as he sunk into the water. His knees knocked against Sherlock's slightly but he couldn't care because all he knew was that their legs were tangled together comfortably, the water settling around them, and... they were bathing together. He'd never done anything like this, something so personal and so wonderfully romantic, really. He leaned forward, took a shaky breath, and then placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's bony knee.

_Baths always made him sleepy. Sherlock already felt tired from the sleepless night and rough sex that had made the whole day. He smiled at that kiss. How John had changed him. Days, even hours, before he would have said no to John even being in the room. Now he was fine with this, bathing with him and sleeping with him, include both terms there. John had even got him to send a dirty picture. This one person had changed him completely. He leaned forward a bit and rested his head on John's chest. "I'm taking it the water's fine and everything else is to your liking." His body was soft and pliable, so relaxed that he didn't even react when his penis brushed against John's thigh. They could do something tomorrow, not now. "Talk about something," he requested quietly._

John easily wrapped his arm around Sherlock's torso, holding him comfortably against him. Talk about something? What did Sherlock want to hear? He bit his bottom lip and took a deep breath. Rugby didn't interest Sherlock in the slightest and that's typically what he talked about. Then it all hit him, his arm tensing around his boyfriend as he smiled. "The first time I ever saw you," he stared off, turning his head slightly to whisper it into Sherlock's ear, "You were sitting in the corner of the dining hall, taking a drink from your coffee... I caught your eye." Just the thought made him blush slightly. "Your eyes, Sherlock. God." His eyes slipped shut and he took another breath. "I knew right there that I had feelings for you. I had feelings for the smartest bloke in the school and he probably didn't even know I existed."

_This was so intimate. John was whispering in his ear about the first time he had ever seen him and how he had known right then that he had wanted him. It sounded like every other morning for him. Sherlock sitting in his space and drinking coffee, probably doing last minute homework or working on another piece that he decided to compose. He didn't remember it. God, he wished he did. "I knew you existed since you moved here," he murmured with a small smile. He glanced over at John with that smile on his face. He knew he looked like an idiot with that smile but still it stayed there to mock him. "But the first time I really noticed you was when you decided to step in and almost get beaten up by your team to try and get them to stop picking on me. No one had done that for me before."_

That sounded about right, then. That was the first time Sherlock had noticed him, really. John figured getting the attention of a genius would be hard work and all it really took was nearly getting beaten to a pulp by the blokes who were supposed to respect him. "That's oddly endearing," he whispered with a grin of his own, reaching a hand out of the water to run it through his boyfriend's hair. "But then you texted me and told me to never do that again. Look where it put us." He gently met Sherlock's lips, pulling away with a small sigh. "You knew I existed though? That's enough for me, I think. The fact that at one point or another you at least looked at me. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you after I noticed you. I would sit in class and distract myself with thoughts of you."

_Where John's hand went, water weighed the hair down. Sherlock sighed softly and rested further against the man. He liked John messing with his hair. "You have no idea how long it took me to find your mobile number just to send you a text telling you not to ever do that again." Sherlock glanced up at John and shook his head. A text told to bugger off got them in this situation. It was rather funny when he thought about the whole irony of the situation. He shook his head a little, still smiling, and murmured, "It wasn't anything like that. I never pined away for you like you did me. It's more like girls talk about you all the time and it's hard to ignore a giggling bunch of women chatting loudly over you when you're just trying to work. That's more of how I heard about you."_

Oh. The female population of their school was how Sherlock Holmes had heard of him. How embarrassing. John shifted slightly, chuckling as he continued to run a hand through Sherlock's hair. He figured there were worse things. The girls could have been talking about his sexual escapades, of which there were many that the school knew about. Perhaps Sherlock had heard those stories but right now he didn't even dare to ask. Not after the amazing day they had shared. Instead he curiously raised an eyebrow, pulling his boyfriend just a bit closer. "You spent a lot of time looking for my mobile number to text me to bugger off?" It sounded so oddly ridiculous and he couldn't help but grin. "Did you just want to talk to me?"

_Those girls had said a lot. Mainly about his looks, how funny he was at parties, and, at least one of the twelve women John had slept with, how good of a -- their words and not his -- fuck he was. But Sherlock could now agree with at least two of the three. He relaxed in John's arms, his eyes drifting up to focus on the man holding him. He liked being held too. John had strong arms that seemed fit for holding. "Yes, just to tell you to bugger off. I just wanted to tell you to leave me alone because I didn't want someone getting mixed up in my life." That really hadn't worked at all. Sherlock moved slightly closer so that he was almost straddling John. "You just wouldn't say no. You're really stubborn, you do know that, right? You should be a politician or something."_

A look of pride flashed over his face as John let the younger man moved closer to him, not caring how their bodies were positioned as long as he got to stay close to Sherlock. "I've been told I'm stubborn but I'm not smart enough to be a politician. There's a reason blokes like me go into the Army, Sherlock," he whispered with a small laugh. It was true, he figured. Those who had money and power ended up in positions in the government. He was just John Watson, charming bloke with a poor family. It seemed he was destined to serve Queen and Country. "I don't care about that, though, because I found you. Being stubborn put me right here with you, didn't it? How could I argue with those results?" He smiled softly, his blue eyes bright against the reflection around him. "How'd you end up getting my number, anyway?"

_His arms snaked around John's neck and he drew himself those few extra inches closer. John's chest was to his, his head against John's neck as he tucked against him. Sherlock's knees were close to John's sides. They were pressed together so completely. "All a politician needs to be is stubborn and has someone to get the latest facts for them. My brother's one. Believe me, he's not that smart." He pulled away slightly and looked at John with a look on his face that mirrored happiness. "We're both bloody stubborn, aren't we? And I got your number by using a few blackmail techniques. The right people sometimes blab a bit too loudly about personal problems and I hear. So I try to remember since they might come in handy. Just had to track down one person to get your number in the end, but still took some time to get them to stop yelling at me."_

Everything about this moment was being cataloged away for future reference. Sherlock's body looked lanky and bony but the moment it was pressed up against John it was soft and warm, resting against him in all the right places. John held his gaze, the idiotic smile on his lips never faltering as he listened to his boyfriend talk. Politicians sounded like boring, stuck-up blokes who sat at desks all day. Definitely not his cup of tea. "Is there a job where I'd get to just sit in a warm bath with you all day and talk? I'd like that job," he whispered as he leaned his head forward slightly and gave his boyfriend a quick kiss. Curiosity captured him after a while and he tilted his head, tongue caught momentarily between his teeth. "Who'd you talk to?"

_"If you wanted a job like that you could become a prostitute. They do that for a job." Sherlock internally sighed. John wouldn't have wanted an answer. He kissed John's neck as a substitute for feeling too embarrassed over saying that. "I'm not going to say who I talked to. They gave me the correct number so the information I have is to stay with me until I need to use it again," he said softly, meaning it. There was no reason to tell John. His lips moved down to over John's pectoral muscle. Where was the hurt in kissing him there with his eyes half open? Something about this made him think that slow and lazy sex would be nice. John had changed him a lot more than he had thought if he was thinking about sex so casually._

John nearly opened his mouth to ask again, the curiosity of the situation rushing through his mind, but then he felt Sherlock's lips. Neck, chest... what had he been thinking about again? He let his head fall back against the wall behind him, eyes slipping shut as he exhaled shakily. Nobody had ever done something like this for him. Every intimate relation had been about the other person, it'd been quick and rushed. But now he was relaxed and Sherlock was there just lazily kissing him, paying attention to parts of him that were always ignored. He couldn't help but tangle his hand in Sherlock's hair, resting it there as he didn't bother to hide a soft moan. The kisses were really nothing more than soft touches of his boyfriend's lips but it was electrifying and each touch set his skin on fire. "Don't stop," he whispered shakily.

_Sherlock pulled his lips away slightly at the reactions. He was sinking to the point of tiredness where he was bound to just pass out against something, anything, and just stay there. He just rested against John but got the hint that his kisses had been appreciated. So his lips moved again. They acted as his hands ghosting and touching over every square inch that he felt like trying to reach. John's Adam's apple, the spot just behind the area that the jaw bone connected to the skull, the hollow of his throat, the soft patch of skin near John's armpit. All was reached as he tiredly mapped out the body below him with his lips. The kisses slowed down through the time and he found himself falling asleep with his face pressed against John's chest, hands slightly dropping from around the man._

Oh. Sherlock was definitely falling asleep, wasn't he? John couldn't complain much because his thoughts were still on the trail of kisses that the boy had left across his body. He honestly couldn't complain much. A sleeping Sherlock on his chest was the least of his worries at the moment. So he sat back and relaxed, wrapped both of his arms around his boyfriend's torso, and placed a kiss on to the top of his head. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly, pressing his nose against the younger man's temple and letting his own eyes slip shut. They both needed some sort of sleep but Sherlock needed it more after the previous night. Hell, his day had probably been more hectic than his and they had to go to school tomorrow on top of that. "I'm right here," he reassured his boyfriend before running a hand gently up and down his spine.

_John's hand ran down his spine. The fingers touched every bump that was there on his spine, going down every dip. He breathed out slowly in a peaceful manner. Sherlock moved slightly against John, pushing himself up so that he was looking tiredly at John. "I know you're here," he mumbled, leaning in to press their lips together. The kiss carried on for a few seconds then he stood, water dripping down his body. "I'm going to go to my room and sleep. Don't make too much noise." He stepped out of the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist as he left. The clothes he had been wearing were forgotten on the bathroom floor as he just went towards his room. That towel stayed on when he laid in the bed and covered himself up, lazily turning on the alarm so he'd get up._

Every once in a while John felt like he couldn't do anything right for Sherlock but he was constantly reminding himself that his boyfriend struggled in some social situations. It wasn't Sherlock's fault at all. He sighed and shifted slightly in the tub, reaching between him to pull the plug and slowly stand up. The selfish thoughts in his head wouldn't leave. All he wanted to do was snuggle into bed with Sherlock, hold him and fall asleep to the sound of his steady breathing. Instead he was going to the couch, slowly pulling his boxers on as he sleepily collapsed on to his bed for the night. Tomorrow morning everything would be better, right? The thoughts would leave and he would have a chance to hold Sherlock.


	18. Chapter 18

_Caidyn_ | Starbuckle

* * *

 _The beeping of his alarm clock woke him up the next morning. His eyes opened and he turned off the bloody thing. Sherlock made himself sit up, the blankets gathering around his body. The towel had slid off in the night, which hadn't surprised him with how much tossing and turning he typically did. The towel stayed there as he walked out of his room with some clothes to wear, a lovely red dress shirt instead of a white one, and went to the bathroom. He showered, dressed, and exited to the kitchen to start the coffee as usual. He felt like being alone today. This was the most human interaction he had had all at once with anyone._

John shifted slightly on the couch as he smelt the coffee, slowly running a hand through his hair with a groan. Right. Morning time. School and rugby for the day. He got up and grabbed a pair of black sweats from the bag he'd nabbed two days ago from home, slipping them on and pulling a gray shirt over his head. "Morning," he whispered as he entered the kitchen, pouring himself a mug with a yawn. He was still unsure where he stood after last night. Sherlock had abruptly left and it had made him rather uneasy. "Sleep well, then?" He studied his boyfriend over the rim of his mug as he took a sip, clearly trying to keep himself calm and not move forward to embrace the younger man.

_Sherlock was sipping on his own cup when John came in, looking completely tired. How could John just wake up like that and walk around like a zombie? He didn't get it. John had no routine unless it had to do with rugby, and even that was flexible because he was the Captain and could change it. "I slept just fine," he said with a smile. He went over to him and pressed a kiss to John's cheek. A light kiss. That was enough for now. He smiled a bit wider and took another drink from his coffee. "Remember, I'm going to go to the band room this morning to practice on my violin. If you don't want to go as early I can just walk to school." He carded a hand through his mop of dark curls to fix them a bit._

A light kiss on the cheek. Calm, Watson. Nothing was wrong. This was Sherlock, remember? John had been warned and he'd known the little quirks going on and he wasn't going to get upset over anything at all. "I can drive you. I'll go and get a nice workout in myself. No need to make you walk," he mumbled as he lifted his free hand and rubbed harshly at his eyes. "Jus' lemme go take a piss." He yawned and set his mug down, sliding his feet across the floor as he moved into the bathroom. After several moments the sink was going and he was leaving, going straight to the couch and slowly pulling his socks on. Mornings clearly weren't John's favorite thing. He yawned again and fell back on the couch, studying his boyfriend with tired eyes.

_How eloquent. Sherlock watched John leave and went to go and get his things together as well. Two days worth of homework to turn in and a days work to get back from all his teachers. He took a deep breath then hoisted his bag over his shoulder with the coffee in one hand and the violin case in the other. He took another sip of the bitter liquid and looked over at John with a small smile on his face again. "Let's go," he said with a small smile on his face. He could tell that John was tired and after a few seconds he said, "Why don't you stay home and go to sleep? I'll get your work for you and bring it back once I'm done with school." John had done it for him yesterday, couldn't he do it for him too?_

That small smile was enough to make John's stomach flip-flop, and idiotic smile on his face that he couldn't help. "No, 'S fine," he sat up and slipped a pair of tennis shoes on, grabbing his book bag with ease and snatching his keys. "I can't miss two days of school, my teachers might kill me." He stood in the living room for a long moment just staring at his boyfriend, slowly starting to wake up some more. It was clear he was losing the haze of sleep. "Thanks, though. That means a lot." He licked his lips, nodded, and moved forward. "You're fantastic." That's when he forced himself to walk by his boyfriend and not stop to kiss him. Today just felt like Sherlock didn't want too much attention or too much touching. He could handle that, he told himself as he moved down the stairs.

_Sherlock walked next to John, grateful for the hint John had gotten to not touch him. He smiled and glanced over at the man. "You can tell me how fantastic I am later, after I get off of work." His eyes found John with that small smile on his face that showed just how nervous he was at times in social interactions. "Maybe you could come in during my break if it's around the time practice ends. Wednesdays are usually slow so I doubt there will be too much to do. I might even get a bit of homework done there and we could spend some time together after school." He already was by the passenger's side, waiting for John to unlock the car so that he could get inside._

John unlocked the car and slid in with ease, tossing his book bag into the back seat with a small nod. "Yeah, I can definitely drop by," he said softly, looking over at Sherlock and biting his bottom lip. As much as he respected his boyfriend and the fact that he had days that he didn't want to talk or touch but it was already tough for him. Then again, he should probably get used to it since he would be spending nine months in Afghanistan. "I've still got to go downtown a bit so we could go and pick up my uniforms and other set of dog tags," he started the car and paused, clearing his throat. "I mean, that's if you want. I don't wanna force you or anything." Hell, he didn't want to go pick up his uniforms because he would have to try all of them on, look at himself and see nothing more than a soldier in the mirror. The thought scared him.

_Sherlock got in as well, going through this routine that was now becoming normal for him. "Do you want me to come along with you when you get those things?" He knew that he could do that, especially if John wanted him to. He looked at his boyfriend carefully and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "I'll come if you want me to. I don't see any harm. Maybe we could go after I get off work tonight?" There was a suggestion. He could only hope that John might say that it sounded just fine. He looked out the window, hands setting in his lap. "I'd like to go with you, John." Moral support, wasn't it? John would want that, anyone would want that, when he tried on uniforms he would be wearing during a battle. Right?_

"Yeah, that's fine. I'd-- Yeah, I'd love for you to come." John licked his lips and pulled out on to the street, sighing shakily as he tried to control his thoughts. "They'll be giving me everything, y'know. I'm trying it all on today. Bulletproof vests, knee pads, hel--" That's when his voice went, cracking as he tried to focus on something else. He didn't want to think about war anymore, at least not right now. "We'll just go when you get off work," he whispered as he kept his eyes locked forward, trained on the road intently. As the school came into view he seemed to relax just a bit, the idea of going to workout soothing his nerves in a way that no other thought or activity could. "I'll see you after practice, then." He smiled softly as he turned the car off and just sat there, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

_No more talking about it then. John got upset when speaking about going to war so they wouldn't talk about it unless John wanted to to get his obvious fears off his chest. Sherlock reached over and placed a hand on John's hand, his fingers settling on the knuckles that turned white from how hard they were gripping the steering wheel. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of John's mouth. "I'll see you then." He reached around and grabbed his things then got out, simply going to the school and sinking into the quietness of it. The band teacher was always early so he never had to worry about being locked out. Quietly he set up his violin and got out a blank sheet to compose on, deciding to use some new inspiration on this next piece._

John sat in the car for several more moments, only moving when Marty approached. They went to the school's weight room together and after that the day was a blur. He'd searched the hallways during each passing period but had failed to find his boyfriend. By the time rugby practice had rolled around he was more than ready to run and tackle anything within his reach. It was clear how utterly frustrated he was. When it was finally time to go and see Sherlock he had managed to calm down slightly and by the time he'd walked in the door of the bookstore he was more exhausted than anything. His arms were hanging at his sides and his blonde hair was still wet from the quick shower in the locker room. "Sherlock?" He cautiously entered the store, looking around lazily.

_The day had sucked. Half of his day had been spent in classes and the other half in the principal's office to see what his punishment would be this time. He had fought Anderson. Punched him in the face to be exact. Then they'd really got fighting and... well it had gotten ugly. Last time he ate lunch with anyone else. Sherlock had predicted correctly and he was working on homework while Molly sat on the floor with him, babbling on as she tried to ignore the nice bruise on his face that Anderson had given him. He'd gotten the boy back better, given him a more prominent hook to his nose. He was slightly dreading seeing John. "Over here," Sherlock called, hearing John's voice, "I'm behind the counter."_

John moved over to the counter and looked over it, freezing instantly. That was a bruise on his boyfriend's face. It hadn't been there this morning. Now he was seeing red, deadset on figuring out who did that to Sherlock's. He wanted to find the person who did that and beat them until they couldn't move. Sod Molly being there and sod Sherlock's apparent sensitivity to touching for the day. He bolted around the counter and dropped to his knees, cradling his boyfriend's face in his hands. "Who did this? Are you all right? I'm gonna find whoever did this, I swear," he growled as he studied the bruise. Every muscle in his jaw was tense now as he tried to calm himself down. He was supposed to be defending Sherlock and day two of school he'd already failed.

_Sherlock twisted his head slightly at the touch that wasn't wanted, a glare showing up as he looked at John. His nerves were on fire and the touch just pissed him off more. He had been in a mood all day. "I hit him first," he said, twisting his head again so that he was moved back further. Molly looked definitely upset having just figured out who this nameless teen was. John was angry, too, obviously not thinking about how his boyfriend might be feeling at the moment. His eyes went down to the page of his homework while his pencil tapped out a rhythm on the paper, a way to try and release a bit of that pent up aggression. "Drop it John. I'll explain it later." Even Molly had gotten that he hadn't wanted to be messed with today and had decided to just babble endlessly to keep him from exploding, mainly focusing on things she knew he was interested in and could contribute to. Why couldn't John?_

Right. No touching. Apparently no caring, either. John glanced at Molly and slowly stood up, licking his lips. "Yeah, sorry," he mumbled. Every muscle in his upper body was tense, straining against the tight gray shirt he'd worn that day. "I just... Of course." There wasn't any point in trying to talk to him, really. It felt like once Sherlock was in one of his moods that there was no stopping him. It was hard to believe that the boy at his feet was more than willing to lose his virginity the day before and now would hardly let John touch him. "'M just gonna walk around then." A pause as he glanced around the store. "Y'know, until you get off work and then... downtown and all that." He nodded and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before moving from behind the counter and slowly walking down a random row of books.

_He watched John leave and found no more inspiration to his math homework. Molly excused herself quietly. That left him alone. Sherlock closed his eyes and put the book off to the side so that he could pull his knees to his chest and close his eyes. A slight rock began to comfort himself and stayed that way until he got up to find John. He found him down one of the rows of books and reached out to touch his arm with the tips of his fingers. That was all he really wanted for contact yet. "It was Anderson," he said quietly as he looked at John. "He pissed me off so I hit him. He hit me back. No one got in trouble because the dean didn’t feel like dealing with it." There. He had said it. He removed his hand so it was back by his side. There was a slight rock from his heels to toes._

John noticed the rocking instantly, lower lip tugged between his teeth as he glanced at the books to his left. Sherlock was uncomfortable. Nervous. That was the last thing he wanted. And now all he could do was wonder why he got into a row with Anderson. Was it because of him? Because Sherlock had a boyfriend? He shifted on his feet and licked his lips. It was clear he was still upset and all he wanted to do was move forward and embrace his boyfriend, place gentle kisses on the bruise and protect Sherlock from everything cruel in the world. But he was forced to stand back today constantly wishing he could do more. "Was it because of me?" He finally asked, his voice soft as he scoffed his shoe against the floor and sighed. All he wanted to do was stop Sherlock from rocking back and forth and he couldn't even do that.

_Anderson and him got into fights all the time, little ones where they name called a bit and Sherlock insulted his intelligence, but typically never ones as big as the one they had had in the middle of the dining hall. He continued to rock as he glanced up at John, barely making eye contact before looking back down at the dark blue carpet of the store that reminded him of the color of his old room at his parent's mansion. "He was saying something about always knowing I was gay and a few other things. I was just standing up for us." He glanced up at John again. Had he done something wrong? Was that not the custom with relationships or was it just a thing that straight couples did? He didn't have a good idea of relationships. "You can touch me John," he finally said, "Just don't do too much."_

"I want to touch you, Sherlock. I really do," John paused and let out a huff, studying the young man in front of him intently. "But I don't know what too much is right now and the last thing I want to do is upset you even more. Until I know what too much is, I'm not gonna do a thing." There. It'd been a bit tough to say but he'd managed ams felt like it was a valid argument. Every nerve in his body was screaming to move forward and embrace the boy, hold him and protect him, but his mind was obediently obeying every signal Sherlock had given him through the day. So he stood there, lifting one hand to run a finger down the spine of a worn book, and forced himself to not say anything that would upset Sherlock. "When d'you get off, then? The shop isn't too far from here." Because in the time he had to wait he was going to text his team and they were going to have quite the talk with Anderson the following morning in the dining hall. Nobody treated his boyfriend like that and got away with it. With the power of the rugby team behind him he was going to make sure that little jerk learned that lesson in the toughest way possible.

_He had to give John more credit for that willpower to not just embrace Sherlock and hold him, though the want was showing purely on his face. Sherlock nodded his head a little. Later. They could hug and hold each other later, just not now. He breathed slowly in and out before deciding to try and think of something to say. The rocking was stopping slowly. "I get off in about twenty minutes," he replied quietly. "We can go to that shop then." He breathed out slowly as he looked at John before leaning forward to peck John's cheek. "You don't need to do something to Anderson. I already broke his nose and gave him a few nasty bruises." He was surprised John hadn't heard of the fight before he had seen Sherlock's face._

Of course Sherlock knew. The boy had an uncanny way of always knowing. It was probably showing on his face, though, the anger and hurt that somebody would do that to his boyfriend. He managed a softly smile at the kiss, licking his lips unconsciously before shaking his head. "I'm still gonna teach him a lesson, 'Lock," he whispered, the nickname he'd given the boy in his head slipping out without a second though. "He doesn't mess with my boyfriend or he gets the whole rugby team to deal with, including the disgruntled Captain and boyfriend. I'm going to make sure he doesn't mess with you again." He sniffed and shifted on his feet, glancing at his boyfriend from under his eyelashes. "Twenty minutes, then?" No need to tell Sherlock how horribly he planned on beating Anderson the next morning.

_Hell. A few days ago the rugby team would have been the ones beating /him/ up, not Anderson. The tables had turned and it felt so odd. Sherlock wanted to smile but given the situation he deemed that it might be inappropriate and the smile could be interpreted as something else. Anderson was really going to get beat tomorrow. "Twenty minutes." He figured that most of it would be talking to Molly to try and calm her down. After looking at John for a few moments he said, knowing that John would find something to do with this, "So it's easier for when you want to surprise me with gifts, you've made it perfectly clear that you will, an author I like is Ellen Hopkins." That was his way to make amends with the man for his actions. With a short nod he walked away to find Molly._

John couldn't help but smile softly at that, watching Sherlock as he walked away. "Ellen Hopkins," he said to himself. A little step forward, an olive branch of sorts. That made his stomach twist in a way that only made him smile like an idiot. With a small sigh and pulled out his phone, sending out a mass text for the team to be ready for tomorrow morning. Several second later he got multiple replies, all of his blokes saying they were ready to defend the boy who they'd teased not even a week beforehand. The least he could do for Sherlock was take care of him and protect him. He skimmed slowly through the books in the store before snatching one up and tossing his money on the counter. The last thing he wanted to do was face Molly after ruining her entire life, he figured. Then he left the store, leaning casually against the side of the building.


End file.
